Dream Sky

8

Van Assen packed into two plastic cases the weapons and ammunition that had been stored in the closet next to the senior manager’s office. Elsewhere, other Project Eden members cleaned out desks and destroyed equipment that would be left behind after the evacuation.

The order to abandon the Mumbai facility had come down from the new Project leadership twelve hours earlier. Van Assen was surprised it had taken them that long to make the decision. While the Project’s operations in Mumbai had worked smoothly through the first few hours of implementation, it had quickly gone downhill after that.

First, senior manager Schmidt had been killed, and a few boxes of vaccine had been stolen by a local Pishon Chem employee who had somehow learned the truth about what was going on. And then, over a week later, that same Indian son of a bitch had returned, freed most of the detainees, and taken the remainder of the vaccine. These events drove Dettling, the new senior manager, to take his own life. In the wake of all this, those who had escaped were probably intercepting any other survivors headed for the facility, because no new survivors had shown up at the station since the breakout.

A complete and total disaster.

As soon as van Assen finished packing the final boxes of the ammunition, he looked down the long hallway and whistled at a group of soldiers at the far end. “Two cases here ready to go.”

After the soldiers took possession of the containers, van Assen went up to the second floor.

In the aftermath of Dettling’s death, a man named Rainer had been elevated to the senior manager’s position. He was even less qualified than Dettling had been, but, in his favor, he seemed to realize this and was more than willing to cede much of the decisions to van Assen. So, in everything but name, van Assen was in charge of the evacuation.

He moved quickly through the management housing area, glancing into each room to be sure they had been cleaned out. Satisfied, he went to check on the rooftop communications center via the narrow staircase that had been constructed in a former closet.

He popped his head and shoulders through the trapdoor at the top and spotted Klausmann sitting at the counter, headphones on.

“Status?” van Assen asked.

Klausmann took a moment before he looked back. “The second plane is in the air. The last is ready when we are.”

Van Assen thought something was a little off with Klausmann this morning, but he figured it was probably a reaction to evacuation orders. He would note it later in the man’s file, but for now, van Assen had other things to check.

“Tell them we are on schedule, and will be there in forty minutes. Then close up here.”

“Yes, sir.”

Van Assen headed back down the stairs.

Emeric Klausmann turned back around as soon as that uppity van Asshole disappeared. The bastard was acting like he was in charge, but he was no more than an assistant. Which, someone should point out to him, put him a level below Klausmann.

He grabbed the bottle of whiskey he’d been drinking right before van Asshole showed up, and took a sip. Thank God for the metal staircase. He hadn’t heard the stairwell door open, but he had heard van Asshole clomping up the steps, giving him enough time to hide the bottle.

Who could blame Klausmann for drinking? Things had been screwed up since Implementation Day. Sure, he’d understood that a lot of people would need to die for the Project to reach its goals, but actually seeing it happen was something else entirely.

The tipping point for him had come when he was on search duty, tasked with conducting a sweep through the Intercontinental Hotel. Right there in the lobby he’d found an old couple sitting on a couch — European, by the looks of them — leaning against each other. He didn’t know how long they’d been dead, a week at least. The worst part was that they looked a lot like his grandparents, both of whom had died years ago.

That’s when he started drinking, and had pretty much not stopped since.

He took one more sip of the whiskey, capped the bottle, and set it on the floor next to his bag.

He reactivated the microphone. “Mumbai base to Mumbai Evac Three.”

“Evac Three, go ahead.”

“On schedule here, at your location in approximately forty minutes.”

“Copy, Mumbai base.”

“Signing off here. Will see you soon.”

“Stay safe.”

Klausmann had to put a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. Stay safe? Was that not the most hilarious thing someone could say these days?

He pulled off the headphones and stood up so he could start disabling the equipment. But before he was fully upright, the earth tilted under his feet. If he hadn’t thrown his hand out and grabbed the edge of the equipment rack, he would have fallen through the trapdoor.

He hugged the rack until enough of his balance returned so that he could stand on his own two feet. He took several deep breaths, knowing he needed to get himself under control and act sober when he went downstairs with the others. The Project did not look kindly on those not pulling their weight.

Through the windowless walls of the rooftop room, he heard the horns of the waiting trucks, blasting in unison three times.

The ten-minute warning.

Shit. I need to get moving.

Ten minutes to disable the communications room and get his stuff from the barracks was cutting it very close. He couldn’t miss the ride to the airport.

He took a tentative step toward the counter and felt his head spin again. Not enough to throw him to the ground, but more than enough to know that picking up the hammer he’d brought with him and using it to smash the equipment would be out of the question.

It’s okay, he told himself. The hammer was a fail-safe anyway. There was still the self-destruct.

The incendiary device had been installed in the room when it was set up. All Klausmann had to do was input the code into the activation box and enter the desired amount of delay — twenty minutes, per van Asshole — and voila, the place would go up in flames, eventually taking the entire building with it.

As he leaned down to pick up his bag, another wave of dizziness swept over him. Blindly, he grabbed the straps of his bag and straightened up, forgetting about his bottle of whiskey. After his head stopped spinning, he walked over to the self-destruct box.

Using all of his concentration, he punched in the code. The tiny screen flashed, and two underlined spaces appeared, waiting for him to input the number of minutes to delay. He typed 2 and 0, and smiled at the box.

Perfect.

He headed down the ladder, already feeling a bit more sober.

Nine minutes later, Klausmann hopped onto the back of his truck, taking a seat next to his buddy Gisler. As they started to pull away, Klausmann reached into his bag for the bottle of whiskey. That’s when he remembered he’d left it on the floor.

No big deal. He had two more full bottles in his bag. He pulled one out, cracked the seal, and, being the team player he was, passed it around, unaware he had forgotten the final self-destruct step. After inputting the time delay, the ENTER button needed to be pushed, something Klausmann had not done.

So, instead of commencing the self-destruct countdown, the system waited exactly one minute after Klausman entered the length of the delay and then reset itself.

“I think we have waited long enough, yes?” Darshana said.

Arjun studied the Pishon Chem compound. It had been four hours since the last group of trucks had driven away. Forty-five minutes after that, they had seen a third military cargo plane rise above the city and turn north.

Since then, all had been quiet.

He nodded. “We need to be careful, though.”

“They are all gone.”

“That may be, but think of what these people have done. Think of what they may have left there in case anyone shows up.”

“You think they may have contaminated everything?”

“It is possible. We will have to wash down afterward, and destroy any clothes we have on.”

They took with them only items they could afford to discard, and left the rest of their things in the building they’d been watching from.

It felt odd to enter the compound through the open front gates. The only other time either of them had come in that way had been in the back of one of the Project Eden vehicles after they were captured in the city. Arjun almost expected guards to rush out of the gatehouse, guns drawn, shouting at them to drop to the ground. But all they could hear were the birds calling to each other high above and the background buzz of insects that seemed to be growing louder.

They knew from what they’d seen in the city that the spray containing the Sage Flu virus left a sheen behind that lasted for several days. But as they passed several of the compound’s buildings and dozens of cars that had been left behind, they spotted no sheen.

They came next to the dual holding areas where the people who’d shown up at the survival station had been put — infected in one, uninfected in the other. Both pens were empty, their gates hanging open. And still no sheen.

They moved on to the buildings that had been used as barracks, first by the locals who had falsely thought they’d been hired to help eradicate malaria-spreading mosquitoes, and then by the fake UN soldiers brought in after the outbreak. Once again, no sheen.

“Should we check inside?” Darshana asked. “Make sure no one is here?”

Arjun looked at the building again. He didn’t like the idea, but she was right.

With a nod, he approached the door and cautiously opened it. On the other side was a hallway, lit only by the sunlight Arjun had just let in.

“Hold it open for a moment,” he said, letting Darshana take the door.

He stepped inside the hallway and searched the walls until he spotted the light switch. The fluorescent tubes flickered for a moment before staying on.

“Come on,” Arjun said. “I am not doing this alone.”

All they found were rooms that had been abandoned in a hurry. As they stepped outside again, they each sucked in deep breaths, cleansing their lungs of the imaginary bad air they’d been breathing.

Their next destination was the administration building. It was at least four times as large as the barracks, and according to Sanjay, had a living area on the second floor where the bosses of Pishon Chem had resided. As they neared the building, Arjun examined the walls and saw this building had not been sprayed, either. When Project Eden pulled out, they had apparently been too busy to worry about dousing the facility. Either that or, in the chaos of leaving, the thought hadn’t occurred to the people in charge.

Arjun opened the door and saw the hallway lights were still on. He exchanged a look with Darshana and knew she was wondering the same thing. Was someone still there?

“We have to go inside,” he said.

“I know,” she replied.

Neither of them moved.

After a few seconds, Arjun said, “If you would like to check alone, you are more than welcome.”

She snorted a laugh, and the tension dropped a few notches.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said.

Together, they stepped across the threshold.

Sanjay had told them the ground floor was mostly offices and meeting rooms and storage closets. It was also the floor where Sanjay had found the flu vaccine. That was one of the things Arjun and Darshana were supposed to be on the lookout for. Sanjay hadn’t thought any would be left behind, but it was best to check.

Their main mission, though, was a little less defined.

“Look for anything that might be of interest,” Sanjay had told them over the sat phone after they reported the base was being evacuated.

“Like what?” Darshana had asked.

“If I knew, I would tell you. Information, equipment we can use here, medical supplies. Look around, see what you can see.”

Arjun and Darshana made a quick trip through the first and second floors and determined both were unoccupied.

When they discovered a set of stairs leading down to a basement, Darshana said, “I am not going down there.”

“Neither am I.”

They closed the door and moved a heavy desk in front of it in case someone was down below.

As they began a more meticulous search, it soon became apparent that what equipment Project Eden hadn’t taken with it had been destroyed. Monitors and telephones and security cameras and computers had been smashed throughout the facility. As for the medical supply room, the only things left there were empty shelves and trash on the ground.

Arjun was beginning to think the only thing he and Darshana would be leaving with was the knowledge Project Eden was indeed gone, but then they found the narrow staircase in the small room on the second floor, leading up to an unexpected third level. The stairs were not quite vertical but close enough that holding on to the railing was a necessity. At the top was a trapdoor. Darshana, having taken the lead, pushed it up a few inches so she could peek through the opening.

“No one,” she said, then shoved it the rest of the way open and climbed out.

Arjun poked his head through a moment later and looked around. At first glance, it appeared to be a single, doorless room, with a chest-high counter running along two walls, and metal racks along the others. Most surprising was that the equipment Arjun could see was still intact.

As soon as he climbed the rest of the way out, Darshana shut the trapdoor to give them more floor space.

“They did not destroy anything,” Arjun said.

“I know,” she said, as shocked as he was. “But why not?”

Arjun shrugged and turned in a circle, taking in the whole space.

The racks were full of different types of equipment, none of which he could identify. He was an accountant before all this happened, and while he could make his way around a computer, he was not an IT guy. On the counter were a couple of blank monitors, a keyboard, and a headset. Out of curiosity, he walked over and rubbed his finger across the touch pad. Both monitors popped to life, a box in the middle of one requesting a password.

The computers were still on.

Arjun pushed the chair to the side so he could get a better look. There was a thud on the floor as one of the legs hit something. He glanced down and saw a half-empty bottle of whiskey on its side, rolling back and forth. He picked it up so they wouldn’t step on it, and set it on the counter.

“Do you know a way around the password?” Darshana asked.

“No. Do you?”

She shook her head.

They left the computer alone and carefully examined the rest of the room. There weren’t any windows but there was a door on the back wall. Arjun opened it and took a look outside. It was the roof of the main building, with nothing more interesting that a few vents and a decrepit piece of old machinery.

“What are these for?” Darshana asked.

She was pointing at a group of cables just inside the doorway. While most other wires were on the floor, these ran up the wall and disappeared through the ceiling.

Curious, both Arjun and Darshana stepped outside. They had to move several feet away before they could see what was on top of the room. Two satellite dishes and a heavy-duty-looking antenna. They had seen the equipment from their observation post a few blocks away, but Arjun had paid them no attention at the time.

“This is a communications room,” Darshana whispered.

They stared at the dishes as the reality of what they’d found settled in.

“We need to go back for the satellite phone,” he said. “Sanjay needs to know about this.”

9

“Dad, wake up.”

Ash’s eyes flew open, his hand already searching for the gun he kept by his side when he was out in the field. But he wasn’t out in the field. And his gun was in the cabinet across the room. He was at Ward Mountain.

“I’m sorry,” Josie said, keeping her voice low. She hovered over him, dressed in a pair of sweats with her hair in a ponytail. “Crystal says she needs to talk to you.”

“What time is it?”

“About twenty ’til one.”

Great. Two hours of sleep. Good sleep, too, some of the best he’d had since before he’d been hurt.

He pulled back his covers and slowly swung his legs off the bed. The pain of his injuries was becoming more manageable, but was still a long way from disappearing.

“My shirt,” he said, nodding toward the chair.

Josie tossed him the T-shirt and he slipped it on. Before he could push himself to his feet, she was already handing him his pants, her head turned away so she wasn’t looking at him.

“Uh, thanks,” he said, and pulled them on.

The living space he’d been assigned with his kids consisted of two small studio apartments linked by a door. The bathrooms were located at the front of each room, creating a small hallway that kept the main door separated from the living space.

Crystal was waiting in the public corridor when he stepped outside.

“You’re up late,” he said.

“We’re a little short-handed,” she replied, looking tired.

Ash tried to pull the door closed behind him, but Josie had moved in the way.

“Why don’t you go back to sleep, honey?” he told her.

“I’m okay,” she said.

Realizing he wouldn’t be able to get rid of her, he looked back at Crystal. “What’s going on? Did Pax call in?”

“He did a couple hours ago, but didn’t have time to talk.”

“Everything all right?”

She hesitated. “He ran into a bit of a problem, but sounds like it’s all okay now. Not why I woke you up, though.”

“Okay. Why?”

“It’s our new contact in India. Sanjay?”

Ash had been briefed about the group outside Mumbai, so he nodded.

“We’ve got him on the line, but I think someone a little higher up should talk to him.”

“Okay, sure. Want to tell me what’s up?”

“Better if you hear from him.”

He glanced at his daughter. “I’ll be back in a while. Go on ba—”

“I’m coming with you,” Josie said, stepping out of the room and pulling the door closed.

He could have argued with her but saw no reason to, so the two of them followed Crystal back to the communications room, where she motioned for Ash to take the seat at her station.

She put on her headset and, after a quick tap on her keyboard, said, “I’m back. Thanks for waiting…Yeah, just a second.”

Ash donned the auxiliary headset.

“What about me?” Josie asked.

Crystal looked over at the girl in the station next to hers. “Hannah, borrow your extra headset?”

After the headphones were secured and plugged into Crystal’s computer, she handed them to Josie.

“Sanjay?” Crystal said. “I’d like to introduce you to Captain Ash. He’s one of the main people here and works closely with Rachel.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Sanjay.”

“Are you in the military?”

“Not anymore. As far as I know, there is no military.”

Crystal looked at Ash, and, with her mic on, said, “Sanjay’s people have found something they thought we might be able to help them with.”

“Okay,” Ash said. “What is it?”

“Sanjay?” Crystal prompted when Sanjay didn’t jump in.

“Are you sure you are not military?” Sanjay asked.

Something was clearly bothering Sanjay, but Ash didn’t know what it was, so he decided to give the most honest answer he could. “I was military. I would still be military if not for the Sage Flu. But I’m not anymore. I’m just trying to do my part to keep things from getting worse.” When there was no immediate response, Ash said, “Maybe you can tell me what your concern is.”

“The only military people we’ve seen have been the ones who claim to be with the UN.”

“There is no UN, and I have never been with the people who made that claim.”

Another pause. “Of course,” Sanjay said. “I was only caught off guard. I apologize.”

“Don’t. It’s understandable,” Ash said. “Why don’t you tell me what you found?”

“Do you know about the survival station here?” Sanjay asked.

“He’s not aware of the most recent update,” Crystal interjected. She looked at Ash. “The Mumbai station was abandoned earlier today.”

“Everyone’s gone?”

“That is correct,” Sanjay said. “After the last of these Project Eden people left, two of my friends went into the compound to have a look around. Most of the place has been destroyed, but there is one room that has escaped harm. We think it is a communications room.”

Ash’s mind was still not completely awake, so it took a few extra seconds for him to process what Sanjay had said.

“Is that right?” he asked looking at Crystal.

As she nodded, Sanjay said, “As far as we can tell, yes.”

A communications room. In a Project Eden facility.

“And you’re staying it’s still operational?” Ash asked.

“I am saying the equipment is still there, undamaged as far as we can tell, and there is power, so it seems to us that everything should still function correctly. We thought it might be helpful to see how Project Eden personnel communicate with each other.”

There was no might about it, Ash thought.

“Our problem is,” Sanjay went on, “we do not know how to make it work.”

“We can absolutely help with that.”

“I have been told this, but also told that such a thing would need to be approved first.”

“Consider it approved.” Ash locked eyes with Crystal. “Do whatever you need to do to make this happen right away.”

“Of course,” she said. “Sanjay, I’ll need to get a few things organized here. Can I call you back? Fifteen minutes at the most?”

“I will be here.”

As soon as Crystal disconnected the call, Ash said, “Pull whatever resources you need. Make this a priority.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ash headed for the door, and then stopped. “If they are able to get things working, wake me up again.” He paused and looked over at his daughter. “As long as that’s all right with you.”

Josie gave it a moment’s consideration before nodding. “But right now you go back to sleep, okay?”

Caleb Matthews stood on the street corner in a constant state of anticipation. Every few seconds, he would lift his foot and start to step out, but without fail the black car would screech around the intersection and zip along the edge of the road, forcing him to jump back again.

He only wanted to get across. Why? He didn’t know. But the other corner was where he was supposed to be. Again he lifted his foot. Again he inched it toward the street. And again the black car appeared.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” he yelled as he pulled away from the curb.

“Caleb.”

After the car passed by, he restarted the cycle.

“Caleb.”

He lifted his foot. He inched it forward.

“Caleb, get up!”

His eyes flew open as his whole body jerked away from the hand that had been shaking his shoulder. “What? What?” he said, blinking.

Crystal was kneeling next to his bed. “I need you down in communications.”

He looked around, half expecting to see the black car heading toward him. As the real world began to embrace him again, he rubbed his eyes and scratched his beard. “Um, what’s wrong?”

“I’ve got a project for you.”

“Now?”

With a smirk, she said, “No, I just woke you up for fun.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you.” He started to pull his covers off, but stopped.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked. “We need to go.”

“I, um, sleep naked.”

“Dear God,” she said, standing up and backing toward the door. “I’ll meet you down in communications.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“You’ve got five.”

Caleb walked into communications wearing his favorite Firefly T-shirt and a pair of jeans that probably should have been in the wash. He hadn’t bothered doing anything about his hair so it was still in the same messy state it had achieved while he was sleeping. He had, however, taken a moment to stop by the cafeteria to pick up a cup of coffee and a couple of leftover rolls from the previous night’s dinner.

“All right, ladies. No need to worry anymore. I’m here.” There were groans from all three of the women manning the stations. “So what earth-shattering disaster do you need me to save us from now?”

“Just sit,” Crystal said, pointing at a chair next to hers.

He plopped down and took a bite of one of the buns. It was going stale, but his taste buds weren’t really awake yet, so it didn’t matter.

“Want some?” he asked, holding out the bun to Crystal.

“No, thanks.”

He shrugged and shoved the rest of the bun into his mouth. As soon as he’d swallowed enough of it so he could talk, he said, “So what’s the deal?”

Crystal grinned. “I think you’re going to like it.”

“I doubt it,” he said, trying to look skeptical.

“What would you say if I told you we’ve gained access to an undamaged Project Eden communications hub?”

He leaned back. “Is this a joke?”

Instead of answering, she said, “And what if I told you we don’t know how to get it working?”

The corner of his mouth ticked up. “I would say that’s because you hadn’t talked to me yet. Now please tell me you’re not pulling my leg.”

“I’m not pulling your leg.”

Adrenaline began jolting through his system. “Where is it? When do we go?”

“That’s the tricky part. You’re going to have to deal with it from here.”

“What do you mean?” he said, his growing excitement turning to confusion.

“It’s in India.”

“India. The country India?”

“Uh-huh. In Mumbai.”

“How the hell did we get access to a communications hub in Mumbai?”

She reached for the two sets of headphones on her desk. “There’s someone I’d like you to talk with.”

10

Robert opened his eyes to a sun barely peeking over the horizon.

As he sat up, he was greeted with the aches and pains from sleeping on a too-thin cushion covering a too-hard wooden bench. He took a few moments to stretch and then rose to his feet.

Pax was still asleep, breathing long and deep. One of the man’s arms had fallen off the bench, and his hand now rested on the deck. Robert would be surprised if Pax didn’t have a knot in his shoulder when he woke up.

As he stepped into the central aisle, he suddenly remembered Kat had been sleeping up there with them. Apparently she had decided not to slit their throats; that was good. Robert walked down the aisle to check on her, but stopped short when he caught sight of the bench where she’d slept. It was empty.

He hurried back to the front of the boat, not worried so much that the others might have broken out, but more that if they had, they’d taken Robert’s and Pax’s things with them. The rope holding the stairway door closed was still in place, however, so it appeared Kat had left on her own.

Wanting to get as early a start as possible, Robert hopped off the boat and jogged over to the fuel truck. The tank was less than half full now, but he was confident it would be more than enough to get them to Isabella. The dock was too small for the truck to drive onto it, so he had to pull the hose out to the ferry. By the time the last bit of fuel flowed out of the truck’s tank, Pax had begun to stir. Robert pulled the hose back on shore and wrapped it in its holder.

As he walked back on board, someone pounded on the stairway door.

“Hey! You gotta let me outta here!”

“Pipe down,” Robert said.

This only seemed to increase the man’s anxiety. Rapid-fire thuds, followed by, “You can’t leave me down here with him! Come on! Please! Let me out!”

A sleepy-looking Pax came around the side of the toilets. “Our guests are awake, I take it?”

“Jesus, man!” the guy behind the door yelled. “It’s inhuman! You can’t just leave me here! I don’t want to catch it! I don’t want to catch it!”

Robert and Pax looked at each other.

“What are you talking about?” Robert said.

“It’s Aiden! He’s sick! I don’t want to be sick!”

Robert looked back at Pax and whispered, “What do we do?”

Pax moved up to the door. “Listen very carefully, Luke. We’ll let you out, but only if you promise to head straight off the boat and not touch anything. Do you understand?”

“Come on, open the door! Come on! Come on!”

“We are not opening anything until I know you will follow my directions.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever. Just open it.”

“Not good enough. What are you going to do?”

“What? Uh, uh, walk off the boat.”

“Without…?” Pax said.

“Without what?” Luke asked.

“Touching anything.”

“Right. Without touching anything. I get off the boat without touching anything.”

Pax turned to Robert, and said in a voice loud enough for Luke to hear, “Get the rifles.”

“Hey, wait a minute!” Luke said. “What d’you need rifles for?”

“To make sure you follow directions.”

“I’ll follow them, dammit! Don’t shoot me.”

Robert retrieved the rifles and gave one to Pax.

“Tell me again what your instructions are,” Pax said

“I, um, I go off the boat and don’t touch anything,” Luke said.

“Okay. Now you’re going to hear some noise around the door, but you hold still until I tell you that you can open it. Got it?”

“No problem.”

From deeper in the hold they heard a muffled cough.

Pax whispered to Robert, “You ready?”

Robert pointed his weapon at the door and nodded. After setting his rifle down, Pax untied the rope holding the door closed and tossed it out of the way.

As soon as he was rearmed, he said, “Open it. Slowly.”

The handle turned and the door eased out, revealing a terrified Luke standing on the other side. More coughing echoed from below. Luke glanced over his shoulder as if the sound was a monster he could actually see, and then looked back at Robert and Pax, his eyes pleading for release.

“Come on out,” Pax said.

Luke stepped through the doorway. Robert and Pax adjusted their positions so they could keep several feet between them and Pax’s former kidnapper.

“It’s a nice straight shot,” Pax said, nodding his head toward the dock. “Keep on going and everything will be fine.”

As soon as the way was clear, Robert closed the staircase door.

“I don’t want to be sick,” Luke said. “I don’t.”

“Whether you are or not shouldn’t be what’s worrying you at the moment,” Pax said. “Keep moving.

Luke walked across the deck as if his feet weighed a hundred pounds each. When he finally reached the edge of the ship, he stopped and looked back. “What am I supposed to do?” he asked.

“Not our problem,” Pax said.

“You can’t leave me here. You gotta help me.”

“Nope,” Robert said. “We don’t.”

Luke looked at Robert and then at Pax, panicked. “I’m sorry. About the boat, I mean. And…and pointing a gun at you. We were just trying to get home.”

“Get. Off,” Pax said.

Robert bobbed the end of his rifle to emphasize the point.

“Where’s your compassion?” Luke asked.

“I’m about three seconds from pulling this trigger,” Pax said.

Luke used the first two to continue to stare before he finally scrambled onto the dock.

“Don’t stop there,” Robert said, his rifle still aimed at the man.

“I’m off, goddammit. That’s what you wanted.”

“I said, don’t stop.”

Luke clenched his jaw, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. “You can’t do this!”

Pax adjusted the aim of his gun from Luke’s chest to the man’s head. “Move!”

Luke huffed out a breath, whirled around, and started walking toward the street. He only made it about a dozen feet before he stopped, his head turned to the right, looking at something.

Robert followed the man’s gaze, and then groaned under his breath.

Kat was standing halfway between the storage building and the boat, cloth bags dangling in both hands. She had obviously been heading back to the Albino Mer, but had stopped when she saw Luke being escorted off.

“Keep coming, Kat,” Robert yelled. “Don’t get anywhere near him!”

Luke shot a quick glance back at the boat and adjusted his course toward Kat.

“Don’t even think it!” Pax yelled. “Don’t you get anywhere near her!”

Luke slowed but didn’t stop.

“What’s going on?” Kat asked. She was frozen in confusion.

“Aiden’s sick,” Robert told her. “Luke’s been exposed! You don’t want to get anywhere near him!”

There was a second’s hesitation as the words sank in before Kat dropped her bags and began running toward the boat. Luke sped up, undoubtedly thinking he could use her as a bargaining chip to get back on the ferry.

“Luke! Stop!” Pax yelled.

The man was no longer listening.

“Stay away from me!” Kat yelled.

Jumping off the boat, Pax shouted, “Stop now! Last warning!”

Luke was thirty feet away from Kat and showed no intention of stopping. Robert could see Kat was not going to outrun him.

The boom of Pax’s rifle echoed across the water.

Luke thrust forward, as if trying to dive the rest of the way to Kat, and smacked into the ground.

With his rifle still tucked tight against his shoulder, Pax rushed over to the downed man, Robert following right behind.

“Get on the boat,” Pax told Kat.

She had halted in terror when Luke fell. “Is he…is he…”

“Get on the boat,” Robert said.

She looked at Robert.

“Now,” he said. “Or stay here. But make the choice.”

With a tentative nod, she headed for the ferry.

Pax knelt down next to Luke.

“Is he dead?” Robert asked.

Pax scanned the body without touching it, and then stood back up. “He was dead the moment the virus entered his system.” A flash of anger touched his face as he looked at Luke. Without another word, he headed back to the boat.

Robert glanced at the body one last time. The area around Luke’s eyes had started to darken, a sure sign the man was getting sick. A part of Robert wished Pax’s bullet hadn’t killed the man. A suffering death was exactly what Luke deserved.

Another part of his mind tried to protest these thoughts, tried to point out how inhumane they were, that this wasn’t the kind of person Robert was, but it faded fast. That may not have been the way Robert was in the Before, but it was clear he couldn’t be that Robert anymore.

As he lifted his gaze, he spotted the bags Kat had dropped. Several items had rolled out. Fruit, they looked like.

He jogged over. Papaya and caimitos and even some rambutans. As he put them back into the bags, he discovered Kat had found more than just fruit. She’d also scored two larger packages of cookies, a box of Corn Flakes, and several bags of gummi bears.

Pax was already untying one of the ropes from the pier when Robert returned.

“I take it you fueled us up,” Pax said.

“I did,” Robert replied as he set the bags down.

Kat was on one of the benches, her arms wrapped tight across her chest. Robert knew he should probably go talk to her, but it would have to wait. He met Pax at the front of the ferry, where a final line was all that was holding them to shore.

“Wait,” Robert said as Pax started to release the rope. “What about Aiden?”

“Nothing we can do for him.”

“I realize that, but shouldn’t we get him off the boat?”

Pax glanced at the door to the down staircase. “I don’t have any desire to go down there and carry him out, do you?”

“No,” Robert admitted.

“Better if we leave him there, then. There’s enough room on this deck and on top for everyone. We don’t need the below.”

Robert was relieved. While he didn’t exactly like the idea of having someone with Sage Flu coughing under their feet, the idea of going down there and helping the man off the ferry was even less appealing.

He took over untying them from the dock so Pax could head up to the wheelhouse. Even though Robert had more experience piloting boats, Pax had become the resident expert of the Albino Mer.

Moments later, the engines fired up and the ferry pulled from the dock. Robert watched the expanse of water between shore and boat grow for a few moments before sitting down next to Kat.

“You okay?” he asked.

“No,” she said after a moment. “No, no, no. I’m not all right.”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, take it easy. It’s over.”

She looked at him as if he were crazy. “It’s not over. It’ll never be over. Everyone’s gone. They’re all dead.” Her voice trailing off, she said again, “They’re all dead.”

He put his arm around her and pulled her close as she began to cry. He tried to think of something to tell her, to make her feel better.

In the end, he said nothing.

The journey back to Isabella Island took a little over two and a half hours. As they came out of the channel and into the bay, Robert blasted the ship’s horn while Pax guided them toward the dock.

“See anyone?” Pax asked.

Robert was watching the hotel, but had so far seen no movement. He sounded the horn again, his gaze glued to the resort’s upper deck right outside the restaurant where they had left the others.

“There!” he shouted as two people ran out onto the deck.

The Albino Mer was still too far from shore for him to identify them, but he saw them disappear into the stairwell that would take them down to the bottom of the hotel.

“I’ll get the ropes,” he said, and headed to the main deck.

He grabbed the line attached to the bow and jumped up on the gunwale, steadying himself against a post to keep from falling into the water. He felt an odd mix of excitement and dread as he watched the dock approach. This island had been his home for a while now and he always enjoyed returning to it. But all the other times he’d come back, there had been people on the beach, Jet Skis on the bay, vacationers on the bar deck. Now the Isabella Island Resort looked deserted. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think everyone had died.

Something else added to the eeriness, too. The morning sun glistened off the sheen from the virus solution that had been sprayed over the island, and was still clinging to many of the plants and parts of the building. If it weren’t for the death it represented, the sheen would have looked beautiful. Robert wondered how much rain it would take to restore the island to the paradise it once was.

As the boat neared shore, Robert focused on the dock, ready to jump the moment it was within range. When they had closed to no more than fifty feet, he saw Renee and Estella running down the stairs that connected the bar deck to the beach. Though it had been only a day, it seemed he hadn’t seen them in forever.

The Albino Mer slowed to a crawl, inching forward at a pace Robert suddenly found excruciating.

Come on, come on.

“Robert!” Estella yelled as she and Renee ran across the sand toward the dock.

He waved back and checked the dock again. Close enough.

He leapt over the water and landed with a few inches to spare at the very end of the dock. He moved forward with the boat as it came alongside and tied the line to one of the clamps. As he rose to his feet, Estella raced past Renee and jumped into his arms, hugging him tight.

“When you did not come back last night, I thought…I thought something had happened,” she whispered in his ear.

“Well, something did happen, but we also came back.”

She pulled back far enough so she could look at him. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

She stared for a moment longer before pressing her lips against his.

“So, um, there’s a stern line that needs to be tied off, too,” Pax called down from the open window of the pilothouse. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

Robert reluctantly pulled from Estella’s embrace. “We can pick this up in a bit.”

“Yes, we can,” she told him.

He set her down and took care of the rear mooring line. As he returned to where the bow was tied off, Pax exited the boat.

“It’s good to see you two,” Renee said.

She hesitated a moment, and then gave Robert a hug.

“Forgive me if I don’t put my tongue down your throat,” she told him as she pulled away.

As Estella turned beet red, Robert said, “Forgiven.”

Renee gave Pax a hug also.

“Glad to be back,” he said.

“Have we missed the plane?” she asked. “It was coming last night, wasn’t it?”

“It’s waiting for us,” Pax said. “Which means we should—”

“Who is that?” Renee asked, looking past them at the ferry.

Robert turned and saw that Kat had come to the front of the boat.

“That’s Kat,” he said. “It’s a long story. One I’ll be happy to tell you once we’re headed to the mainland. Is everybody ready?”

Renee and Estella exchanged a concerned look.

“Most everyone,” Renee said.

“What do you mean?”

“Three people came down sick last night,” Renee said. “And another this morning. We’ve isolated them, but…”

Robert turned to Pax. “Everyone was vaccinated. Why would anyone be sick?”

“It happens on occasion, a reaction to the vaccine,” Pax said. “Same thing happens with all types of inoculations.” He looked at Renee. “I need to see them.”

“That may be a bit difficult,” she told him.

“Why?” Robert asked.

“When they started getting sick, a few people began to wonder if Pax might have been lying about the shot. That maybe he wanted everyone to get sick.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Robert said. “Everyone saw the spray. If Pax wanted us dead, he would have let us go outside.”

“I know that. I also know he wouldn’t have come back here until we were all dead if that was his plan.” With a gesture back at the hotel, she said, “But there’s a vocal minority in there that isn’t seeing things the same way.” She focused on Pax. “You go back in there, you’re liable not to come back out.”

“I’ll talk to them,” Robert said.

“They’re not particularly pleased with you, either. You did, after all, ‘run off’ with the enemy.”

“All right, enough,” Pax said. “We need to get everyone off the island, and we need to do it fast. There’s no telling when Project Eden might return.”

“I have a feeling some of them aren’t going to want to go,” Renee said.

“And what?” Robert asked. “They’re going to stay here on the island?”

“I’m just telling you what I think, that’s all.”

“Then they can stay,” Pax said.

They all turned to him, surprised.

“Look, every life is important now. And yes, I want everyone on the ferry. But if we have to force some of them to join us, and they end up causing a problem later that might cost others their lives, then it’s better if they stay.”

“What about the sick?” Robert asked.

“Bring them.”

“But they might infect the rest of us,” Estella said.

Pax looked out at the island. “So might exposing yourself to all the virus the two of you just ran through.” He let his words sink in for a moment, then said, “Round everyone up and bring them down here. We’ll give people the choice. But no matter what, this boat leaves this dock in an hour.”

11

Ben had reached the northern edge of Los Angeles right before dark the night before. Knowing it would be easier to find the survival station in the daylight, he’d broken into a diner in Sunland, stretched out in the large corner booth in the back, and fallen fast asleep.

Not long after eleven p.m., he snapped awake to the sound of shattering glass. At first he had thought it was one of the restaurant’s windows, but a quick check revealed they were all intact.

Okay, not his building. But one close by.

He made his way to the front of the diner. He was ten feet from the window, buried deep in shadows, when a second crash slashed through the otherwise silent night.

He froze. That had been even closer. A building or two away, at most.

As alarming as the sound was, what followed was truly terrifying.

Laughter. Loud, obnoxious laughter.

And then a second laugh, a different tenor than the first, but no less creepy.

“That one there,” a male voice said, his words echoing along the street.

“Easy,” another male voice scoffed.

A few seconds of quiet ended with another window shattering and another gale of laughter.

Then footsteps.

Ben dropped to a crouch.

“Okay, my turn,” the first one said. From the tone of the voice, Ben guessed the guy couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen.

“All right, over there. The one in the middle.”

Ben waited for the window of a nearby building to break, but it was the window directly in front of him that exploded.

He barely had time to cover his face before he was bathed in shards. He fell backward onto the floor, unable to hold back the grunt that escaped his lips.

He froze, sure the others now knew he was there. But all he could hear was more laughter and the second guy saying, “Nice one. My turn.”

Ben remained on the floor until he could hear them no longer, and then stood up. Glass clung to his shirt and pants. He did what he could to shake it all off, and inspected his arms and hands. He’d been cut in several places, but they were mostly nicks and scratches.

Thinking there might be more glass in his hair, he tilted forward and gave his head a shake. He felt a drip behind his ear, so he reached up and discovered a few inches of hair matted with blood.

He hurried back to where he’d left his things, snagged his flashlight, and went into the windowless bathroom. Holding the light in one hand and using the mirror, he scanned his scalp, expecting to find a big gash. But like the cuts on his arms, the two he located on his head were minor.

The place had no hot water but the faucets still worked, so he was able to wash himself off. In the kitchen, he found a first-aid kit and a shelf full of clean cooking towels. He used several of the towels to dry off and applied some antibiotic ointment to his many wounds. He covered the larger ones on his arms and hands with bandages, and pressed another towel against the cuts on his head.

For several minutes, he seriously considered finding someplace else to spend the rest of the night, but he decided the likelihood of the vandals returning was low, so he went back to his booth bed and tried to fall sleep.

Ten minutes asleep, twenty awake. Thirty out, five awake. Fifteen out, nearly an hour awake. The night went on and on like this. He finally gave up when the first gray light of the dawn leaked into the diner.

He spent several minutes before looking through the front windows at the street to make sure no one was out there. If his experience with Iris hadn’t been enough to caution him about other survivors, the window-smashing duo had sealed the deal. The next time he ran into anyone, he wanted it to be at the survivor station. At least there, the UN would make sure everyone acted like human beings.

Satisfied there was no one around, he grabbed his bag and slipped out the back door to the rear parking area where he’d left his car. He still had no idea where the survival station was, but he figured it had to be someplace large enough to accommodate a lot of survivors, given the size of the city.

He found a gas station a block away and went inside, looking for a map. No luck. He tried at two more stations but got the same result. With GPS, maps were something gas stations didn’t need to carry anymore, he guessed.

He finally found a map at a motel near the freeway entrance. After studying it for a moment, he figured the most likely places for survival stations would be the area airports. They were big and well known and easy to get to. LAX was the largest, but the Burbank airport was closer to his current location, so he figured he should check there first.

He hopped onto the I-5 and headed south. The first few miles were fine, but right before he reached the Burbank area, he had to slow way down due to the amount of abandoned cars on the road. At one point, the road was so obstructed that he had to exit the freeway and then get back on.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to leave the I-5 again until he reached the airport exit at Hollywood Way. He could feel his anticipation growing, sure that there would be people at the survival station, good people who would offer him food and a place to sleep instead of trying to steal his car. And, God willing, Martina would be there, too.

His excitement began to wane as the airport came into view. He’d expected the runways to be full of tents, but they were empty, the whole area quiet.

Perhaps everyone was inside the terminals, he thought.

He continued to the turnoff that would take him into the airport, but there he stopped.

Someone had pounded a makeshift sign into the ground right at the corner. Spray painted across it:

He laughed in relief. He must not have been the only one to think about trying the airport. He pulled out the map and checked it. Dodger Stadium was near downtown. All he had to do was get back on the I-5 and it would take him there.

He made a U-turn and returned to the interstate, feeling that finally things were going right. Once he passed the 134 interchange, the freeway widened by several lanes, but his hope that it would be easy sailing the rest of the way quickly vanished.

The traffic jam started a few hundred yards before the interchange with the 2 Freeway. Ben let his car roll to a stop, then hopped out and climbed onto the hood so he could get a better look. Cars filled both sides of the interstate for as far as his eyes could see, all the vehicles pointed downtown. While most looked empty, a few still had people in them.

If Ben didn’t know any better, he would have thought it was just another traffic-filled day in L.A. But from the dust on the cars, he could tell the vehicles had been sitting there at least a week and would probably do so forever — one long monument to the city of cars, a memorial of a world that would probably never be seen again.

Clearly, the freeway was no longer an option.

Ben backed up his car to the previous exit and rolled down the ramp. When he reached the bottom, he found the road as congested as the freeway above.

Where had all these people been going? he thought. He hadn’t seen similar jams in the other cities he’d passed. Having no idea what the answer was, he focused on what he should do next. He could always backtrack to see if he could find another way around, but what if it was just as blocked as this way was?

He knew from some of the signs he’d passed that he was getting close to downtown. If he couldn’t drive, he might as well walk.

He put his extra bottles of water into his bag and climbed out. After deciding the freeway would be almost as difficult to travel on foot as in a car, he chose to stick to surface streets. He headed west on Fletcher Drive, hoping to get beyond the hills that paralleled the freeway. It wasn’t long before Fletcher fed into a road called Glendale Boulevard, which then veered left and through a mixed area of grocery stores and banks and bars and apartment buildings. When he reached the top of the hill, he caught sight of several high-rises in the distance.

Downtown.

His energy renewed, he headed down the hill and under a freeway overpass into a small valley that he thought opened up at the other end into the L.A. basin.

Smiling broadly, he started jogging down the middle of the road. He knew, just knew he would find Martina at the survival station. The sooner he could get there, the sooner he would see her, and the sooner everything would be all right. They’d have each other. Whatever happened after that wouldn’t matter.

Gabriel Dixon hadn’t meant to finish off both cans of ravioli, but he couldn’t help it. He’d been burning a lot of calories these past few days and seemed to be constantly hungry. Still, his little overindulgence came with a price. If he was going to eat again at lunch, he would have to hunt around for something else. Not that doing so would be much of a problem. Los Angeles being a big, empty city meant all he had to do was walk through the front door of any house or apartment or store and he’d pretty much have his pick of food.

Of canned or dry goods at least.

At some point in the past week, the power had gone off in this part of town, so anything kept in a refrigerator or freezer had gone bad. He would have killed for a hamburger at that moment. Ironic, given that he was sitting in a Jack in the Box fast-food restaurant, where hundreds of hamburgers must’ve been served the day before everything went down.

A fresh loaf of bread. He might kill for one of those, too. Any bread he found now that hadn’t gone bad was basically hard as a rock. But that was the price you paid when you were working the front lines.

He brushed the crumbs off the table into a paper napkin and wadded the whole thing up so he could dump it in the trash on his way out. Just because civilization had ended didn’t mean he should forget his manners.

Sliding out of the booth, he pulled on his worn leather jacket — careful not to drop the napkin — and donned his pack. After a final check to make sure he’d cleaned up properly, he grabbed his rifle and headed for the door.

It was time to start his rounds.

Wrapped in his cocoon of hopeful thoughts about Martina, Ben didn’t notice the door of the Jack in the Box restaurant open a block ahead. It wasn’t until the man wearing the leather coat and carrying a rifle stepped all the way outside that Ben picked up on the movement.

He stopped and slowly lowered himself next to a parked car, hoping he would blend into the background.

The man at the restaurant took another step forward, but then he, too, stopped. In what almost seemed like slow motion, the guy turned to his right and stared down the road in Ben’s direction.

For a few seconds, Ben thought the man couldn’t see him. But then—

“Hey! Hey, you!”

First Iris, then the two punks the night before, and now this man with a rifle.

“Hey!” the man called again as he started walking toward Ben.

Ben whipped around, looking for a way out. There were no nearby roads leading off Glendale on his side of the street, but there was one almost directly across from him, leading up a hill into what looked like a residential area.

“Buddy, I just want to talk to you!” the man yelled.

Ben shot out from his crouch and ran across the street.

“No, no, no! I don’t want to hurt you! Where are you going?”

By the time the man finished asking the question, Ben had reached the other road, and within seconds was hidden from the man’s view by the building on the corner. Up the hill he raced, pushing himself hard.

“Hey! Stop!”

Ben looked over his shoulder. The man was at the bottom of the street.

“I can help you! That’s what I’m here for! Hey!”

As Ben neared the top, he could see the road he was on ended at a street that appeared to run along a crest.

“Come on! Don’t make me go up there!”

Reaching the new road, Ben paused for a second, looking both ways. To his right, the road went back down the hill. To his left, a slight rise.

He turned left, shooting a look down the hill as he did. The man was running up the slope, not quite halfway to the top.

Adrenaline surged through Ben as he sprinted down the middle of the road. When he glanced back again, he saw his pursuer had not yet reached the top of the hill, but Ben knew the man soon would. And when he did, Ben could probably expect a bullet to slam into his back.

He needed to get out of sight before the man could see him again. Hide behind one of the cars? It would be less than perfect, but who knew? Maybe the guy would run right by and not see him.

Just before he decided it was his only option, he came to a gap between the houses on his right, where the slope went down at a steep angle. There was something at the far end that looked like…

…a staircase!

As he veered off the road, he resisted the urge to look back. Either the man would see him or he wouldn’t. It didn’t matter at this point. Ben had made his choice so he had to go with it.

The concrete stairs consisted of several spans of steps broken up by short, level sections four or five feet wide. Sticking to the railing on the right to avoid the bushes encroaching on the other side, Ben took the stairs two at a time, verging on losing control the entire way down. Scanning ahead, he saw a short road that dead-ended at the base of the staircase. The other end of the road connected to a street that ran through the bottom of a narrow valley. If he could turn down that road before the man knew where he’d gone, he could be free.

He stumbled as he hit the bottom step but righted himself and raced to the end of the street. It wasn’t until he started to make his turn that he finally looked back.

The stairs were empty.

The last thing Gabriel expected was to spot a survivor the moment he stepped out of the Jack in the Box. Talk about making things easy for him.

“Hey! Hey, you!”

The man looked scared. Great.

“Hey!” Gabriel said again as he headed toward the man.

The guy suddenly jumped to his feet and raced across the street.

Just my luck. A runner. So much for easy.

“Buddy, I just want to talk to you!”

Gabriel knew his plea was useless. In the five days he’d been patrolling the area, he’d seen two kinds of people: those who were grateful to find him, and those who wanted nothing to do with him. In the latter group, almost to a man, no amount of cajoling would keep them from running away. The only way to bring them in would be by using a more powerful means of persuasion.

Rifle in hand, Gabriel exhaled an aggravated breath and took off in pursuit.

When he realized the man had darted onto a road that ran up the hill, he contemplated letting the son of a bitch go. The guy was in his early twenties at best, and while Gabriel was in good shape, the ten-plus years the kid had on him would likely give the kid an advantage. To catch him, Gabriel would have to outlast the kid. Which meant this pursuit might take some time.

Though he knew it was a waste of breath, Gabriel yelled at the guy again and started up the hill. He wasn’t much past the midpoint when the kid reached the top and took off down a road to the left.

The last quarter of the upward slope was the worst. Gabriel’s thighs and calves burned from the climb, and his shoulders ached from the pack on his back. Pausing for air when he finally reached the top, he looked down the way the kid had gone.

Shit.

The guy wasn’t there.

Gabriel immediately started running again, his gaze swiveling from side to side, looking to see if the kid had hidden somewhere nearby. He didn’t stop until he reached the point where the street curved to the left. There, he could see a ways down the new section of road, but it was empty.

How had he lost the kid that quickly?

He looked back, thinking maybe he’d catch the guy jumping out of some bushes and trying to sneak away. Nothing.

He was starting to think the kid was gone for good when he heard the sound of someone sprinting along pavement. It wasn’t coming from this road, though. It was distant, off to the side.

He backtracked and tried to zero in on the sound’s location. Ahead, there was a section of the road with no houses on the south side. He hurried over, thinking he might be able to see the runner from there.

No such luck on that point, but it didn’t matter. There were stairs leading down to the road, from which he could still hear the echoes of running feet.

Though Ben was fairly sure he was safe, he continued to move as quickly as possible through the hill, turning down different roads and taking several more of the public stairways that seemed to be abundant in the area.

It wasn’t long before he found himself at the bottom of another valley, this one a bit larger than the one at the bottom of that first set of stairs. According to the street sign, he was on Echo Park Avenue.

It had been at least fifteen minutes since he’d last seen the man chasing him. He hoped he’d lost the guy for good but knew he couldn’t assume that yet, so he decided it was finally a good time to find someplace to hide. There were plenty of houses around. They dotted the slopes on either side, sticking out between giant old trees and patches of overgrown bushes. Break into one, hang out inside for a few hours, and the coast should be clear.

Then again, if he could make it to the survival station, that would be the ultimate in safety. He allowed himself to slow to a walk as he contemplated his options.

No. No stopping. Keep going. Martina was waiting for him. He didn’t want to put off their reunion one moment longer than he had to.

He figured Echo Park Avenue would probably take him out of the valley and put him even closer to downtown than he would have been on his original route. Unfortunately, he thought it might also make it easier for the man to find him.

Perhaps if he kept heading south over the next ridge, he would find another valley. That would probably put him far enough away that he could head into the basin without being spotted.

He began looking for a road or staircase that would take him up the southern slope. At the end of Baxter Street, down a little offshoot road, he found stairs that appeared to do just that.

He adjusted the bag strap on this shoulder and began the ascent. There were more steps than he’d expected, well over a hundred, and by the time he finished the climb, his lungs were burning as much as his legs were.

After he finally caught his breath, he followed the gravel path past a driveway and down to the road along the ridge. He walked down the pavement for a bit until he was able to get a good view of the next valley. Unlike the ones he’d already passed through, this one was not filled with homes. In fact, very few buildings were in it. It seemed to be a park made up of meadows and trees and walking trails.

Ben continued along the road until he spotted a dirt path leading down from the slope into the park. He looked toward the southwest end of the valley, and there, in all its abandoned glory, was downtown Los Angeles. But it wasn’t the only thing he saw.

Toward the end of the valley, just beyond the crest of the opposite slope, was a single row of over twenty palm trees, each seventy or maybe eighty feet tall. It was their uniformity that caught his attention. He’d seen them before. Not trees like them, but these very trees, on TV every time he watch his beloved San Francisco Giants play the Dodgers in Los Angeles. The trees were right outside the stadium.

He was almost there.

Feeling excited again, he stepped onto the dirt path.

“Stop right there!”

Tracking the kid after having almost lost him had turned out to be relatively easy. The survivor was obviously trying not to be seen again, but he wasn’t adept at traveling quietly. Gabriel, on the other hand, had mastered the technique, so he’d been able to follow the kid without letting on he was there.

Gabriel had another advantage, too. In the several days he’d been in the area, he’d scouted most of these streets so he had a good knowledge of the area. When he realized the kid was headed for the stairs that led to the ridge overlooking Elysian Park, he decided to take an easier way up a few blocks west.

He cut down the road behind Elysian Heights Elementary School and turned up the street that would take him to the top. When he reached the end, he stopped behind several bushes and peered up the ridge toward where the stairs let out.

Nearly a minute passed before the kid showed up. After walking about halfway to Gabriel’s position, the kid stopped and looked out over the park.

Gabriel eased out from his hiding spot and maneuvered himself into position not far behind the kid.

Raising his rifle, he said, “Stop right there!”

Ben looked over his shoulder.

It was the man in the leather jacket, his rifle pointed at Ben’s chest.

“All right,” the man said. “Here’s what I need you to do. Very slowly, turn toward me and set your bag on the ground.”

Ben did as ordered. “All yours.”

A brief moment of confusion passed over the man’s face. “You got me wrong. I don’t want your stuff.”

A chill ran through Ben. If not his stuff then…?

“I’m trying to help you,” the man said.

“I don’t need any help, thank you.”

“You do. You just don’t know it.”

Was this guy a psychopath? If so, Ben could imagine what kind of “help” the man wanted to give him.

He glanced at the gun. “You said before that you didn’t want to hurt me.”

“I don’t.”

With a nod at the weapon, Ben said, “But…”

After a second of hesitation, the man lowered the barrel, aiming it now at the ground by Ben’s feet. “I’m sorry. I need to make sure you come with me.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s my job.”

Ben had heard enough crazy for the morning. If this guy was going to kill him, Ben would prefer that happened while he was trying to get to Martina than after he was taken back to whatever hovel the guy was now calling home.

“Okay. Fine. I’ll…I’ll go with you,” he said, trying to sound defeated.

“Good,” the man said. Then, as Ben had hoped, the guy dropped the barrel of the rifle so that it was pointing straight down.

Knowing he might not get a second chance, Ben threw himself backward, hitting the top of the slope on his ass and shoulder, then rolled down the hill, bypassing the path altogether.

Gabriel was glad it was over. After he delivered the kid, he might take an hour or two off. Hell, he might even take the rest of the day.

“Good,” he said, and lowered his weapon.

He was about to step forward to give the kid a hand with the bag, when the kid leapt toward the slope like he was a wide receiver diving over the goal line.

Gabriel rushed to the edge and watched him roll down the hill in a cloud of dust.

“Whatever you’re thinking, it’s wrong!” he yelled. “It’s safer here with me then where you’re headed!”

He half considered running after the kid. The rolling would probably make the kid disoriented for a few seconds, possibly just enough time for Gabriel to grab him. But the ridgeline represented Gabriel’s boundary. If he ventured into the park, he would likely be seen and the mission could be blown.

The kid was on his feet now, a bit off kilter as he jogged the rest of the way down the hill.

“You don’t know what you’re doing!” Gabriel yelled. “There’s nothing but death in that direction! We can help you here! We can save you!”

But the kid was having none of it. As Gabriel watched him head toward the center of the valley, he spotted a van with a nice big UN painted on the side heading down the road on the other side of the park.

Goddammit.

Gabriel pulled his radio out of his bag. “L-One, this is L-Four. L-One.”

“Go for L-One,” Nyla responded.

“Lost one. A runner. Caught me off guard.”

A pause. “No chance for retrieval.”

“He’s already in the park, and they’ve got a van headed to meet him.”

“Copy, L-Four. One lost. Let’s make it the last.”

“Well, duh,” he said, without pushing the talk button.

“L-One out,” Nyla said.

“L-Four out,” he responded.

12

Ash sent his kids ahead to the cafeteria while he went through his new morning ritual of stretching his wounded muscles. Every day the pain receded more, but not quickly enough as far as he was concerned. He figured he was at about seventy-five percent of his pre-explosion self.

Dr. Gardiner had told him he was unlikely to make it all the way back, which was the motivation Ash needed to push himself to prove otherwise.

Once he was as limber as he would get that day, he took a quick shower, shooed Lucky the cat away from his clothes as he dressed, and went down to join his kids for breakfast.

The mood in the cafeteria was lighter than it had been since Ash had arrived at the facility. Matt’s death had been hanging over everyone, but while the loss would be felt by all for years to come, the funeral had given people the opportunity to move forward.

He must have been greeted over a dozen times with “morning, Captain” and “how you doing today, Captain?” and “good to see you, sir.” He patted a few backs, shared a few words, and then went up to the counter to get his eggs and bacon and cup of coffee.

His kids had chosen a table at the far end of the room. Ginny Thorton was sitting with them, though her cousin Rick didn’t seem to be anywhere around. That wasn’t surprising. The kid had pretty much stayed to himself since Ash and his group had arrived in Nevada.

“Hey, Dad,” Brandon said as Ash set his plate and mug on the table.

“How are you feeling?” Josie asked.

“I’m fine, sweetie,” he said.

“How’s the pain?”

“Better.”

“Good morning, Mr. Ash,” Ginny said as he sat.

“Good morning, Ginny. How’s the food?”

“It’s okay.”

Ash smiled and took a sip of his coffee. Some sort of dark roast today, he realized. Word around the base was that one of the resupply crews had found a whole truck full of premium coffee beans, all vacuum-packed and ready for sale. Someone had said the same type of coffee had not been served twice since they’d been at Ward Mountain.

Ash was almost done with his eggs when he saw Chloe enter the cafeteria, holding one of Matt’s journals. She stopped near the doorway and scanned the room. When her gaze landed on Ash, she began weaving through the tables toward him.

“Hi, Chloe,” Brandon said as she walked up.

“Good morning, Brandon,” she said, then glanced at the girls. “Josie, Ginny, good morning.” She then leaned down and whispered in Ash’s ear, “I think I found something.”

“Your room,” he whispered back.

With a nod, she was up and gone.

“What was that all about?” Brandon asked.

Ash set his mug and utensils on his plate. “She needs my help with something.”

“What?”

“Nothing that important.”

“A secret?”

Ash pushed out of his chair. “That would probably be why she whispered to me.” He smiled. “I promise, if it’s something you should know, I will tell you.”

“So?” Ash said as he entered her room and closed the door.

“Over here,” she told him.

She stepped over to the pile of journals on her bed. As Ash sat down beside her, she picked up a journal that had been sitting by itself and began rifling through the pages.

“I missed it the first time,” she said, speaking rapidly. “I don’t know why. I should have seen it. When I finished everything, I decided to go through them all again. I guess that’s why I caught it the second time. I could see the—”

Ash put a hand on the journal, stopping her. “Have you been up all night?”

“What time is it?” she said.

“It’s after seven thirty.”

“I guess I have been.”

“You didn’t realize everyone was eating breakfast when you found me?”

“I wasn’t paying attention. I went to your room, but you weren’t there, then I heard voices coming from the cafeteria so I checked there. If you hadn’t been there, I would have—”

“Chloe, take a breath.”

So this is how you get the stoic Chloe White to babble — just deprive her of sleep, he realized.

She took a couple of deep, long breaths. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. You’re kind of fun this way.”

“Gee, thanks.”

He removed his hand from the book. “What did you find?”

At a more deliberate pace, she flipped through the pages until she arrived at one marked with a piece of string.

“This is from seven years ago.”

She turned the journal so it was facing Ash, and pointed at what she wanted him to read.

Like many of the other entries, it ended in a series of numbers.

Ash had barely finished reading it when Chloe twisted the journal back around and tapped her finger in the middle of the page.

“It’s right there. See?” She began to read, “‘Inquiry re: ds has come up zero.’ DS. Dream sky.”

“Maybe,” Ash said. He had noted the initials when he read it. “Could also be a million other things. Like, I don’t know, deadlines? Or maybe it’s someone’s initials. Could be the d stands for doctor and the s stands for a last name.”

“Then how do you explain these?” She pulled two more journals forward and opened to pages also marked by strings. “‘The ds loc still unknown,’” she read from one, and picked up the other. “This says ‘7 potential locs ruled out. C8 thinks goose chase, no ds.’ And here.” She turned to another page in the same book. “‘C7 thinks knows where to find info ds.’ And this from two days later. ‘C7 missed con twice.’” She flipped several pages again. “And finally, ‘C8 confirm C7 term.’” She looked at Ash. “Do you see now? The ds location still unknown. You don’t write the Dr. Smith or the Daniel Stone. It’s not a person. It’s a place. A place important enough that Matt was having his inside contacts search for it. According to this, C7 was on to something, but must have been killed trying to access it.”

“Yes, apparently something was going on,” he said. “But it’s a weak connection at best. What about an A for Augustine? That’s not there. And besides, it might not be a place at all.”

“I realize that,” she said. “But how many other potential leads have we found?”

He thought about it then shook his head.

“Exactly,” she said. “At least this is something we can look into. Maybe it won’t lead us anywhere, but what else are we going to do?”

“You’re right,” he admitted.

“We should make contact with Matt’s people inside the Project. C7 is dead, and as far as we know, C8 is, too.” C8 had been the inside man at the New Mexico facility Matt had destroyed right before he died. “But C2 should be around. I also found references for a C9 and an H5. The only question is, how do we get ahold of them?”

It was possible Matt had taken that answer with him to the grave, but if someone did know, Ash had a pretty good guess who it would be.

“I’ll talk to Rachel,” he said.

“I’ll come with you.”

“Absolutely not. You’ll stay here and sleep.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “I’ll sleep later.”

As she started to stand, her hand caught the edge of a stack of journals, sending several of them toppling to the floor.

“Oh, yeah. You’re fine,” he said. “Get some sleep. I need you sharp.”

She frowned, but nodded in resignation. “Promise me if you find out anything, you won’t act on it until you talk to me.”

“I promise.”

It took five knocks before Rachel answered her door.

“May I come in?” Ash asked.

She stared at him for a moment before moving out of the way.

He was pretty sure she hadn’t left the room since he’d brought her there after the funeral, but he wasn’t about to ask her.

“I won’t keep you. I just have a couple of questions I was hoping you could help me with.”

“I’ll answer what I can,” she said with very little enthusiasm.

“Do you know how to reach our contacts inside Project Eden?”

Her brow furrowed. “Why?”

“If we’re going to take advantage of the disruption Matt started, we need to get as much intel from the inside as possible.”

“Of course,” she said, her nod ending with a shrug. “But I don’t know how he did it.”

“You don’t?” he said. “I can’t believe he didn’t leave some kind of instructions.”

“If he did, he didn’t leave them with me.”

“Then who would he have left them with?”

“If anyone, my guess would be Pax.”

“I’ll ask him,” he said. “One more question. Have you ever heard the initials DS before?”

Again she looked confused. “In what regards?”

“I’m not really sure.”

After a moment, she shook her head. “Nothing comes to mind.”

The communications room was packed when Ash reached the door. He counted nine people inside a room designed to comfortably hold less than half that number. In addition to Crystal, Leon, and Paul at the comm stations, three others appeared to be dealing with some cables that ran out the room and down the length of the hallway. Two more people were hunched over the back of Leon’s station. And presiding over the whole mess was Caleb Matthews.

The Mumbai survival station, Ash realized. He’d almost forgotten all about it.

He squeezed inside and made his way over to Crystal’s desk. He nodded toward Caleb and asked Crystal in a low voice, “What’s the status?”

“Caleb’s trying to get things wired so he can control things in Mumbai without the people there having to do anything,” she said. “He’s running everything out to one of the communication trailers we used on the trip down from the Ranch. Been a few glitches, but I think he’s got things mostly worked out now.”

“Has anyone actually tried tapping into their equipment yet?”

“Not yet. Caleb spent a lot of time having Arjun — that’s the main guy in Mumbai right now — describe everything in the room so Caleb could figure out what he was dealing with first. Since then, they’ve been working on this wiring thing. He wants it all in place before they flip any switches.”

While it made sense, Ash would really like to know if they could actually listen in on Project Eden’s communications. Since there was nothing he could do about it, he moved on to the real reason for his visit. “I really need to talk to Pax. Can we try him again?”

“Sure,” she said. “I had a quick talk with him about an hour ago. They’re pretty busy down there, but we can try.”

As Ash pulled on the second pair of headsets, Crystal dialed the number. It took five rings before it was finally answered, but the voice did not belong to Pax.

“Hello?” a woman said.

Crystal and Ash exchanged a look.

“We’re trying to reach Rich Paxton.”

“Pax? Hold on. Let me see if I can find him.”

They heard boards creaking and a bang followed by the woman cursing to herself.

“It’s for you,” the woman said, her voice muffled.

A couple seconds later, Pax was on the line. “Yes?”

“It’s Ash. Do you have a moment?”

“A moment’s about all I got. We’re trying to get off the island.”

“I’ll make it fast.” For a second, Ash considered clearing the room, but there was so much activity going on, the only one who could probably hear him was Crystal. He put his hand over his mic and said to her, “I’m sorry. Do you mind if I—”

Already pulling off her headset, she said, “No worries.”

She popped out of her seat and moved over to one of the other stations.

Ash said into his mic, “Rachel thought you might know how to get in touch with Matt’s contacts inside Project Eden.”

Silence.

“You still there?” Ash asked.

“I’m here,” Pax said. “I assume there’s a good reason you need to know.”

“There is.”

“I don’t know the procedure myself, but I do know where to find the information. Unfortunately, you’re going to need to wait until I get back. It’s protected by a biometric lock.”

“How long will that be?”

“If everything goes right, figure I could make it to Ward Mountain by the morning.”

Ash was disappointed by the delay, but at least it wouldn’t be long. “Okay, we can make that work. Do you have time for another question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Have you ever heard the phrase Augustine dream sky before?”

His answer was quick. “Never. What does it mean?”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d tell me. It was one of the last things Matt said to me. It was important to him that I remember it.”

“Really wish I had an answer for you.”

“Don’t worry about it. What about the letters DS together? They sound familiar?”

“Did you say DS?”

“Yeah, as in maybe dream sky.”

A long pause. “Son of a bitch.”

Ash leaned forward. “What?”

“That’s something else you’ll have to wait until I get there for.”

“You know what it is?”

“I’ll get back as soon as I can. Gotta run.”

The line went dead.

13

14

“TR117. Go ahead, Bogotá.”

“Status?”

“Just completed flyby of Campeche. Twenty-nine bodies sighted. Spotted a few breathers, but they were clearly infected. So that’s a confirm endgame in progress.”

“Copy, TR117. Campeche endgame in progress.”

“Are we cleared to proceed to our next destination?”

“Affirmative, TR117. Proceed to Isabella Island.”

“Copy, Bogotá. Setting course for Isabella Island. ETA approximately fifty-five minutes.

It took more than a little coaxing to get everyone out of the restaurant and down to the dock. After all but the sick were present, Robert went up to the Albino Mer’s pilothouse to let Pax know.

“Ready when you are,” he said.

Pax, the sat phone in his hand, didn’t move.

Robert walked over and touched him on the shoulder. “You all right?”

He could feel Pax tense before the man looked back at him.

“Sorry,” Pax said. “Lost in thought.”

“They’re here.”

“Okay, then.” Pax set the sat phone on the counter. “Let’s do it.”

They went out onto the upper deck of the ferry and moved in front of the pilothouse so everyone could see them. As soon as the crowd realized Pax was there, several people began shouting.

“This is your fault!”

“You’re a liar!”

“You knew the vaccine didn’t work, didn’t you?”

Robert raised his arms, palms out. “Quiet down! Everyone, please!”

While most heeded his words, a few increased their volume.

“You! You! And you!” Robert said, pointing at the offenders. “Shut up now or you will be physically removed.”

“What the hell, Robert? Afraid of a few complaints?” one shouted back.

“You can complain all you want once we’re underway, but right now I need you all to listen.”

“I’m not going anywhere with that killer!” the man — Sebastian something from the UK — said.

Robert opened his mouth to respond, but Pax put a hand on his arm and then stepped to the front railing, the whole time looking directly at Sebastian. “Staying is a choice you have. None of you,” Pax said, now scanning the rest of the crowd, “have to go anywhere. But whether you believe me or not, if you stay, you will die.”

“Bullshit!” someone else yelled. “Your ‘vaccine’ is what’s going to kill us. It’s already started.”

Some murmurs of support could be heard, but not nearly as many as there had been a few minutes before.

“I don’t know how familiar you are with vaccinations,” Pax said, “but there’s always a small percentage of people who have a reaction.”

“You’re just making excuses so we don’t—”

“Raise your hand if you feel sick,” Pax said.

Robert surveyed the crowd. Everyone was looking at each other but no hands went up.

“If there was really an outbreak here, more of you would have fallen ill by now. The even better news is that we’ve experienced a handful of post-inoculation illnesses in the past, and every single one of those people recovered.”

“We don’t know if that’s true,” Sebastian argued.

“You’re right, but it doesn’t matter. The people here who’ve gotten sick will survive,” Pax said. “The question is, will you? This boat is leaving in fifteen minutes. Anyone not on board at that time will be left behind. We will not be coming back. This is your last chance to get away.”

With a nod to Robert, he walked back into the pilothouse.

“You heard him,” Robert said. “I need a few volunteers to help bring the sick down. The rest of you who are coming with us can grab your things and board now.”

Ten minutes were still left on the deadline when the sat phone started to ring again. On the display was the number for the airplane crew waiting onshore for the ferry’s passengers.

Pax punched ACCEPT. “We’ll be underway here in a few minutes. The crossing’ll take a couple hours. Probably have to make a few trips with the bus once we—”

“Pax, you might want to think about leaving right now,” Donna Jones, the plane’s pilot, said. “The watch station in Panama just picked up a plane Caribbean side, heading west-northwest on a line that will take them right over the island.”

“We’re sure it’s not one of ours?”

“It is not.”

“All right. We’ll see you as soon as we can.”

Pax disconnected the call, tossed the phone back on the counter, reached up, and pushed the horn button, holding it down for a full ten seconds. The blast reverberated throughout the resort and bounced back at the bay. After letting the sound die for a few seconds, he pressed the button again. Before he let go this time, he heard someone running up the stairs behind him.

“What’s with the horn?” Robert said as he entered the room.

Pax hit the ignition button and the already warm motor quickly roared to life. “We have to leave now.”

“The deadline’s not even half over. We can’t go.”

“There’s a plane heading in this direction no more than thirty minutes out. We can’t be anywhere near the island when it flies by.”

“It’s them? They’re coming back?”

“So it appears. How many people are missing?”

“Twenty-five, maybe thirty.”

“Round ’em up. I’ll give you five minutes, but can’t go beyond that. When I sound the horn again, you’ll have sixty seconds.”

Robert raced down the stairs and headed for the dock.

“What’s wrong?” Estella asked as he passed her.

He grabbed her arm. “Come with me.” He explained to her what was going on as they hopped off the boat and ran to the shore.

“Oh, my God,” she said.

“We only have a couple of minutes so I need you to help me get everyone down to the boat. But as soon as you hear the horn again, stop and get back as quickly as you can. Understand?”

She nodded.

They sprinted up the staircase to the bar deck.

“You take this level. I’ll go upstairs.”

Without waiting for her to respond, he ran over to the staircase and headed all the way to the top. His first stop was the restaurant dining room they’d all been living in. He had hoped the majority of the stragglers were there, but the room was empty.

“If you’re up here,” he yelled, “we’ve gotta go now!”

He raced around the rest of the upper level but found no one.

One level below was the uppermost guest level. He moved quickly down the hall, knocking on every door without stopping.

“Come on, come on, come on! We have to go! There’s another one of those planes heading here right now! The boat’s leaving in a minute!”

A door near the other end of the hall opened and a woman stuck her head out. “I thought we had at least five more minutes,” she said.

“Not anymore.”

“But my things.”

“Leave them!”

She looked back in her room as if she wasn’t sure she could do that.

He ran over to her and yanked her into the hall. “Go! Now!”

Whatever she saw on his face must have convinced her that her life was more important than her suntan lotion and bikini, because she turned and ran toward the stairs.

Robert followed her as far as the end of the hall and then yelled back toward the rooms, “If you think it’s better to stay, you’re wrong! But don’t wait until it’s too late to change your mind. We’re not coming back!”

He allowed himself a pause, in case any more of the doors opened, but none did. He only hoped that meant no one was left on this floor.

He repeated the run-and-knock technique on the next floor down, rousting three guests. As he started to leave the hall, he heard raised voices coming from behind a closed door near the middle of the corridor. He retraced his steps until he was standing outside it.

One voice was male, the other female, arguing in French. Robert was unable to understand what they were saying.

He pounded on the door. “Open up! The boat’s leaving!”

The voices fell silent for a moment, and then the man shouted back, “We are staying!”

The woman started yelling in French again, and the man yelled right back.

Robert recognized the man’s voice as belonging to a guest named Bertrand Tailler, which meant the woman was his girlfriend, Aubrey Deniel. The few times Robert had spoken with them, Bertrand had done all the talking, giving Robert the impression the woman was shy, didn’t speak English, or was not confident of her skills.

“If you stay, you will likely die,” Robert said. “At least this way, you have a chance to get out of here.”

“I think it is likely we die if we go!” Bertrand replied.

Robert heard movement, like someone running toward the door, then the woman screamed and Bertrand started yelling at her again.

“Please,” the woman yelled. “Please. I…I go!”

Bertrand shouted over her, probably trying to drown her out, but Robert had heard enough. Turning away from the room, he mule-kicked the door a few inches from the knob.

“Leave us alone!” Bertrand yelled. “We are staying! Leave us alone!”

Robert kicked again and heard the doorframe crack. As he cocked his foot back for another shot, the ferry’s horn filled the air.

His kick moved the door an inch. Two more hits and the door flew open.

“The boat leaves in one minute!” he yelled as he rushed inside.

Bertrand was near the windows at the other end of the room, his arms wrapped around Aubrey. She looked at Robert, her eyes pleading as she struggled to get out of her boyfriend’s grip.

“Let her go,” Robert said. “You can stay if that’s what you want, but if she wants to go, she goes.”

“It is better for her here! Now go! We are staying.”

The horn blasted again.

Even if he left at that second, Robert knew making it in time would be a close call, but he couldn’t leave the woman like this. In a sudden surge of frustration and anger that had been building for the last couple of days, he rushed forward and sent a punch flying over Aubrey’s shoulder directly into Bertrand’s face.

Stunned, with blood beginning to pour out of his nose, the man released his grip and staggered back.

As Aubrey pulled away, Robert turned and put a hand on her back, urging her toward the door. “Run!”

A few feet before she reached the hallway, she glanced back. The fear on her face became mixed with worry and her step faltered.

“Go! Go!” Robert told her.

She looked unsure.

“Now!”

She raced out the door.

Robert, a few steps behind her, stopped just inside the room, intending to give Bertrand one last chance. But as he turned, Bertrand was leaping through the air right at him. There was no question of Robert getting out of the way.

Bertrand smashed into him, sending him falling backward into the hallway with the Frenchman on top of him.

“You bastard!” Bertrand said, swinging his fist. “Everyone will die because of you!”

The blows landed solidly against the sides of Robert’s head, until he was able to twist to the side and shove Bertrand away. Like a punch-drunk boxer, Robert climbed awkwardly to his feet and shuffled down the hall toward the stairs.

Bertrand ran at Robert again. His pounding feet gave Robert enough warning and he was able to jerk to the side right before Bertrand would have hit him.

As the man flew past, he flung out an arm and grabbed a handful of Robert’s shirt. The yank was hard enough to twist Robert around and knock him off balance. Backward he fell again, his head smacking into the corner where tile met wall.

His whole world went black.

Estella had found more than a dozen people gathered in a meeting room just off the bar. It didn’t take much to convince them to get on the boat. By the time she finished running through her assigned floor, she had located five others and sent them running for the dock.

She contemplated heading upstairs to help Robert, but worried they might miss each other. She waited for him instead on the sand at the bottom of the stairs to the bar.

When the horn sounded, her already racing heart beat even faster.

“Hurry up,” she whispered, her gaze glued to the upper portion of the hotel.

With each passing second, she became more and more worried. Where was he? He should have been back by now.

The horn blared again.

“Robert!” she yelled.

She glanced back at the boat, and then at the resort, then ran up to the bar deck and over to the stairwell. But as she opened the door intending to head up, she heard someone racing down toward her.

Robert, she thought. Thank God.

She stayed where she was, holding the door open. But the runner wasn’t Robert.

It was a woman Estella had seen around but never talked to.

As the woman rushed through the open door, Estella grabbed her. “Where’s Robert?”

Tears were running down the woman’s cheeks and she had terror in her eyes. She said something in French that Estella didn’t understand.

“Robert,” Estella said. “You see?” She pointed at the woman and then at her eyes.

“Oui. Robert. Coming.”

Estella’s relief at hearing this was tempered by the woman’s sobs.

“Get to the boat,” Estella said, motioning toward the dock. “The boat.”

The woman seemed to have stopped listening. She wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed her eyes shut as the tears continued to flow.

Estella realized the only way the woman would be able to get to the ferry on time was if Estella took her there. She looked toward the stairwell.

Robert was coming. The woman had said that much.

It would be all right.

Putting an arm around the woman’s back, Estella said, “Vamos.”

She quickly led the woman off the deck and across the beach to the dock.

Renee was standing on the gangway to the boat. “Where’s Robert?” she called.

“He is coming,” Estella said. “He should be here any moment.”

She escorted the woman on board, then asked one of the other passengers to help the woman find a seat. Estella returned to the gangway and started to exit the boat, but Renee grabbed her.

“Where are you going?” Renee asked.

“To find Robert.”

“I thought you said he was right behind you.”

“The woman said he was coming down. I’ll go see where he is.”

“You do, and you’re staying here,” Pax called from above.

They looked up. He was leaning over the upper-deck railing.

“I’m sorry, but we have to go now,” he said. “Release the lines.”

“No!” Estella shouted. “We cannot leave Robert!”

“Believe me, I don’t want to leave him, either, but he knew we only had a limited amount of time. And it’s already three minutes beyond the deadline I gave him.”

“Just a few more minutes,” Estella said.

“A few more minutes could get everyone killed. I’m sorry.” Pax raised his voice. “Release the lines!”

Someone began untying the stern line, while a man standing near Renee and Estella moved up to the one at the bow.

“I am staying, then,” Estella said, trying to twist free of Renee’s grasp. “I am not leaving him here alone.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Renee said, wrapping her other arm around Estella’s waist. “The last thing he’d want would be for you to miss the boat.”

Of the two small women, Renee was the stronger. As she tugged Estella away from the edge, the rumble of the boat’s engine increased, and the ferry began to pull away from the dock.

“Let me go!” Estella screamed. “Let me go!”

But Renee didn’t heed Estella’s request until long after the boat had passed through the channel and into the open sea.

The pilot of TR117, a Learjet 31A/ER Project Eden scout aircraft, checked the GPS and then tapped his radio switch. “Bogotá, TR117.”

“Go, TR117.”

“Commencing descent to five thousand feet. ETA Isabella Island eleven minutes.”

“Copy, TR117. Descending to five thousand feet. Eleven minutes out from Isabella Island.”

As the pilot signed off, the copilot looked back into the small cabin.

“Wake up, Freddy. Showtime.”

The technician — Freddy Marquez — opened his eyes and blinked a few times. “Already?”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“How much time?”

“Ten minutes.”

The technician stretched his arms above his head, bending them at the elbows so that he didn’t smash his hands against the ceiling like he’d done before. He then unbuckled his belt and moved over to the equipment that would allow them to get a close, detailed view of the ground from thousands of feet in the air.

Though he’d just used the system when they’d flown over Campeche, procedures dictated that he check everything again to make sure it was all working properly.

Once he’d done so, he said, “Good to go.”

Robert’s return to consciousness started with a low groan. This was followed by a slow turning of his head, which stopped only when his right cheek came into contact with a hard surface. His eyelids fluttered before finally opening all the way.

In those first few seconds, he had no idea where he was. He lifted his arm to rub his head, but his hand bumped into something. He jerked in surprise before realizing he was lying right next to a wall.

As he inched away, pain radiated from the back of his head.

What the hell?

He gingerly felt the spot, half expecting to find it wet with blood. No blood, but a nice bump that stung even though he barely touched it.

Things started coming back to him. The resort. A woman shouting. A man, too. Bertrand. Aubrey.

Robert’s eyes widened.

The boat!

Doing his best to ignore the pain, he scrambled to his feet and raced into the stairwell. Down he flew, two, sometimes three steps at a time. When he reached the bottom, he shoved open the door and ran out onto the deck surrounding the bar.

The ferry was gone.

He scanned the bay and the channel and the sea on the other side, but saw no sign of it.

How long had he been out?

He turned quickly to check the clock behind the bar, but had to squeeze his eyes shut for several seconds as a combination of pain and dizziness hammered down on him. For a moment, he thought he was going to throw up, but soon the nausea and vertigo subsided enough so that he could open his eyes again.

According to the clock, it was nearly 10:50. He tried to remember when the boat was going to leave. Pax had given Robert a five-minute deadline. That had been when? Ten fifteen? Ten twenty?

The boat had been gone at least thirty minutes.

Panic began to build in his chest. He’d been left behind. He was going to die here. He had screwed up and had no one to blame but—

Relax, a voice in his mind said. It had sounded very much like his own. Not the crazy, concussion-addled Robert who was on the brink of freaking out, but the calm, in-control Robert who had emerged over the last few weeks to lead the others in their struggle for survival.

Calm down.

After a few long, deep breaths, his panic diminished to a more controllable level.

Think, the voice said. The boat being gone is a good thing. The others are on their way to safety. But it doesn’t mean you’re stuck here.

More of the haze that had been clouding his mind began to part.

It would take the ferry no less than two hours to get back to Limón. That meant it still had somewhere between an hour and an hour and a half left to go. There were several boats on the island that could make the trip in less time. The other speedboat would get him to the mainland ahead of the ferry, and even one of the scuba boats, if he left soon, would get him there about the time the others reached the port.

He ran toward the stairs to the beach. As he reached them, he noticed someone sitting at one of the bar tables.

Bertrand. On the table in front of him was a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and a nearly empty glass.

The Frenchman sneered and raised his drink. “Salut. It looks like you and I are the only ones who will not die today. You should thank me.” He took a sip.

Though Robert was loath to talk to the man, he said, “Everyone else got on the ferry?”

“You are the only other person I have seen, so it would seem so.” He poured himself another drink. “Grab a glass and join me.”

“I don’t think so.”

Bertrand’s laughter followed Robert as he ran down the steps and across the beach.

The speedboat was tied to a buoy in the bay, about a hundred feet from shore.

Robert stripped off his shirt and kicked off his shoes, then ran into the warm water until it was deep enough for him to swim. It took only ten overhead strokes for his head to start spinning again. He quickly switched from freestyle to breaststroke. It didn’t completely quell the disorientation, but he was able to keep moving. Upon reaching the boat, he grabbed the railing and hung there for a moment, letting the spinning pass.

That’s when he heard a distant drone.

He looked around, thinking maybe the ferry had come back. But the sea was empty. Odd, because the noise was getting louder. It sounded like—

Oh, God.

He looked up and scanned the sky.

There, almost due south, he spotted a small jet airplane.

Project Eden had returned, just like Pax had warned.

Robert watched as the aircraft approached the island. According to Pax, the Project would be checking for signs that the spraying had worked.

Thank God, the ferry had left. If it was still in the bay, crowded as it was with survivors, there was no telling what those evil bastards would do. Pax had said most likely this plane would be merely reconnaissance, but deadlier aircraft could be called in quickly if needed.

Robert hoped the Albino Mer had been able to get far enough away that it wouldn’t be noticed, or, if it hadn’t, that the watchers’ focus would be solely on the island, and they wouldn’t notice anything in the ocean around it.

Which begged the question, how would they react when it appeared no one was on the island?

Wait, he thought. Not no one. Bertrand was sitting on the deck looking very much alive.

He eyed the shore, wondering if he could get there in time and at least lie on the sand and pretend to be dead, but there was no way he could make it in time. His best bet was to keep the boat between him and the plane.

And hope he wasn’t spotted.

Marquez monitored the camera feeds on three separate screens. On the center screen was the view of the island via a high-resolution video camera. Video could go only so far, though. That’s why on the screens to either side were feeds from ultra-high-res digital cameras similar to those used in satellites orbiting the planet. From a paltry five thousand feet up, they could zoom in tight enough to discern the pattern of a butterfly’s wing.

The system was fully automated, so the technician’s job became one of merely looking for anything out of the ordinary. The system was also programmed to note discrepancies, so Marquez took it as a point of pride to try to discover things before the computer did. Since they’d started doing flybys a week earlier, the results had been forty-sixty in the computer’s favor. Given the sophistication of the code, Marquez took that as a win.

“There,” he said, pointing at the center screen a half second before the computer donged, indicating it had also made the discovery. He turned on his mic. “We’ve got a breather.”

“How many?” the pilot asked.

“Only one so far.”

“Bodies?”

Marquez made a quick check of all three screens. “None yet.”

As soon as the plane passed over the rest of the island, he quickly ran through the captured footage again. It was a pretty damn nice resort on a beautiful bay, with a few boats anchored just offshore. It didn’t take an expert to see the boats were all empty so he didn’t bother zooming in on them. Instead, he did so with the man sitting at the table on the hotel deck. The guy did Marquez the favor of looking up at the right moment.

Caucasian. Late twenties. Brown hair and a couple days’ growth of beard. On the table was a square bottle. Looked like a Jack Daniel’s bottle to Marquez, a guess reinforced by the glass in the guy’s hand filled with brown liquid.

The guy didn’t look sick, but he was very much alone.

“Tally?” the pilot asked.

“Just the one breather and no bodies.”

They all knew what that meant. Anytime no bodies were spotted, a second flyover was required to make sure survivors hadn’t decided to hide during the first pass.

“Hang on,” the pilot said, as he began to bring the plane around.

The moment the plane moved beyond the hotel and became hidden behind the palm trees edging the bay, Robert pulled himself into the boat.

He checked the fuel gauge and saw it was sitting a hair below a quarter tank. Better than nothing, but he would have to add to it.

The fuel supply line was over by the dock, so Robert untied the boat from the buoy, started the engine, and raced over. After lashing a line around one of the posts, he jumped up on the dock and retrieved the end of the hose. He hooked it up to the speedboat and flipped the pump switch, hoping there was enough still in the reserve tank so he wouldn’t have to go around siphoning fuel from the scuba boats.

The moment he heard the jet’s engine again, he knew he was screwed. Sure, there was always the chance the people in the plane wouldn’t notice a boat that had been anchored by itself minutes before was now tied to the dock, but really, how would they miss that?

The only thing that might make it worse was if they saw him on the dock, he thought. The boat with no one around? A head scratcher. The boat with him standing beside it? A problem.

He jumped into the water and swam between the hull and the pier. From there, he watched the plane fly overhead once more.

As the cameras started snapping away again, Marquez focused all his attention on the hotel. He figured if people were still around, that’s where they’d be, and given that this was the plane’s second flyby, someone might get curious enough to peek out a window or stick a head out a door. But the only person he saw was the man sitting at the table, his glass still in his hand.

“Anything?” the pilot asked.

“No. Looks like we’re clean.”

“Copy that. What’s next on the list?”

The question was for the copilot, so Marquez took off his headset and put his equipment back in sleep mode. Hopefully, there would be enough time for a little longer nap than the one he’d just had.

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. It wouldn’t be until he landed back at the base again and was reviewing the footage in preparation for writing his report that he would notice the boat in the bay had moved between passes. He would zoom in on the hi-res image and carefully look for signs of anyone else. He would find none, but would discover that the boat was tied to the dock during the second flyby.

For several minutes he would sit staring at the screen as he contemplated the possibility they had missed something. That he had missed something.

But it was only one small boat, he would tell himself. And after checking the photos again for any changes in the footprints on the beach, he would note there was no evidence of more people moving around.

Despite the fact it would have taken impossibly fast currents to get the vessel around to the far side of the dock, Marquez would convince himself this was exactly what happened, and that the man on the deck had gone down to tie it up before returning to his drink. In his gut, Marquez would know this was a lie, but a minor one. Better this than to admit his mistake and be punished, maybe even with exile.

Robert didn’t want to get fooled again, so he remained in the water for a full fifteen minutes after the plane had flown by the second time. Even then, he worried the plane would fly by a third time and catch him out in the open, but he knew he couldn’t afford to wait any longer. His speed advantage over the ferry was quickly dwindling.

He pulled himself up onto the dock and removed the hose from the fuel tank. At some point during the flyover, the pump had automatically shut off. He hoped it was because it had filled the boat’s tank to the brim, but a check of the gauge showed it was only sixty percent full. That had to mean the reserves were gone. Still, as long as he didn’t go full out the whole way, he probably had enough to get to Limón.

He hesitated as he was about to climb back into the boat, and looked to shore.

Bertrand was still on the deck, drinking his whiskey.

Robert knew he should leave the asshole, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Annoyed, he jogged onto the beach and over to the deck stairway.

“I’m leaving,” he called up.

There was a delay before Bertrand turned and looked down. If he wasn’t drunk already, he was well on the way.

“Come with me,” Robert said. “You don’t want to stay here alone.”

“Fuck you.”

“Last chance.”

Bertrand raised his glass. “Did you not hear me the first time? Let me tell you again. Fuck you.” He laughed and took a drink.

Knocking the guy out with a punch to the jaw was easy. It was dragging the asshole to the boat that Robert hoped he wouldn’t regret.

After Renee released her, Estella spent the rest of the voyage slumped against the outside wall of the bathroom, staring aimlessly out at the sea.

All she could think about was Robert. What had happened? Why hadn’t he shown up? Why couldn’t the boat have waited a little bit longer?

She hadn’t known Robert for a long time, and they had only become close within the last week. But the intensity of the new world they found themselves in made those few days feel like so much more.

She didn’t even realize they were nearing shore until the rumble of the engine revved down to a low growl. Commands were shouted across the deck as the ferry slowed and then gently bumped against the dock.

While the boat emptied, Estella remained where she was.

As the last few passengers were trickling off, someone touched her arm. “Let me help you.”

Renee was hovering beside her, holding out a hand.

Estella wanted to stay on the deck, but before she could say this, Renee grabbed her arm and gently but firmly lifted her to her feet. Renee then guided Estella off the boat to where the others had gathered.

Pax arrived a few moments later.

“All right,” he said, loudly enough for everyone to hear. “I only had time to get one bus yesterday, so if we crowd in we can do this in two trips.”

“Couldn’t we find another one?” someone asked.

“Won’t save any time. Airport’s not that far away.” Pax paused. “Let’s divide right down the middle. Group closest to me, you’ll go first.”

“Let’s get you in the first group,” Renee whispered to Estella.

“No,” Estella said. “Please. Not yet.”

Renee frowned but didn’t push.

It took twenty minutes for Pax to return after taking the first group to the plane. When the bus doors opened, those in the second group started climbing on board. Estella and Renee took seats about a quarter of the way back, Renee at the window. As soon as the last person squeezed into the aisle, Pax shut the door and put the bus in gear.

The murmur started in the rear, and then more voices joined in as the mumbling moved forward through the bus. Renee looked toward the back.

“What is it?” Estella asked.

“I’m not sure,” Renee said.

A voice from the back shouted, “Is that a boat?”

As Renee looked out the window, Estella leaned across so she could see, too. Cutting through the water around the easternmost arm of the port was a speedboat.

“Stop!” Estella yelled, jumping up. “Stop the bus!” She forced her way through those standing in the aisle. “Stop!”

Pax hit the brakes a little too hard, rocking everyone forward and nearly sending Estella sprawling.

“What is it?” Pax said as she reached the front.

She swung around the metal pole and toward the exit.

“Open the door! Open the door!” she yelled.

Pax pressed the release. As the door started to open, Estella pushed against it until there was enough room for her to squeeze through. She jumped out and ran back toward the dock.

The speedboat arrived there before she did, stopping on the far side of the ferry, out of sight. As she neared she got a view of the smaller boat, but no one was in it anymore. Then she saw him moving across the main passenger area of the ferry to the gate on the railing.

Robert.

She sprinted and reached him just as he stepped onto the dock. They threw their arms around each other.

“You missed the boat,” she said.

“So I found out,” he replied.

Renee and Pax arrived a few moments later.

“Glad to see you could join us,” Renee said.

“Thanks,” he said.

Pax looked uncomfortable. “Sorry we didn’t wait.”

“It’s good that you didn’t. A plane flew over about a half hour after you left.”

“Did it see you?”

“Not me,” Robert said in a way that made it clear the plane had seen someone. He nodded back toward the boats. “I could use a hand.”

“There’s someone with you?” Renee asked.

“Bertrand.”

“Is he all right?”

“Nothing he won’t recover from.”

15

Ben had never felt as much relief as he did when saw the United Nations van heading down the road toward him. Two men smiled as they climbed out, but their good cheer quickly disappeared when Ben told them about his pursuer.

He was quickly ushered into the van and they sped back the way they’d come. A screeching turn to the left took them up the south side of the valley. As they crested the hill, Ben could see that instead of more parkland ahead, there was a giant, nearly empty parking lot, and in the middle of all that asphalt — Dodger Stadium.

He had made it.

Traveling through the lot, his anticipation of seeing Martina exploded. He was sure she was here. It was the logical place for her to go. His smile was so wide his cheeks hurt, but he barely noticed.

“How many people are here?” he asked.

Without turning to look back at him, the man sitting in the front passenger seat said, “They’ll give you all the information inside.”

It was an odd answer, but Ben was too excited to give it too much attention.

The van drove counterclockwise around the stadium until it passed the narrow end — the home-plate end, Ben guessed — then turned down a smaller section of the lot, lined on both sides by trees. Unlike the rest of the parking area, this section was full of vehicles: more vans with the letters UN on the side, at least twenty sedans of various makes, and nearly as many military-grade trucks and Humvees.

The driver stopped next to an entrance under a blue awning. Immediately, the door swung open and four people — two male soldiers and a man and a woman, both in white lab coats — exited.

“What’s with the soldiers?” Ben asked, his excitement dimming slightly.

“Standard procedure,” the man in the passenger seat said. “Not everyone who comes here is cooperative.”

“They’re not? Why?”

“Beats me.” He turned and looked at Ben. “Hop out. The counselors will escort you from here.”

“Oh, okay.” Ben opened the side door. “Uh…thanks for picking me up.”

As soon as he exited and shut the door, the van pulled away.

“Welcome to the Los Angeles survival station,” the man in the white coat said. “My name is Dr. Rivera and this is Dr. Lawrence.” He motioned toward the woman. “If you will come this way, please.”

Ben followed the doctors into the stadium, the two soldiers falling in silently behind him. Their footsteps echoed off the dark, polished concrete as the group proceeded down a wide walkway. It was walled off on both sides, preventing Ben from seeing the interior of the stadium.

Dr. Rivera stopped at an unmarked door, pulled out a key.

“This way,” he said, unlocking the door and holding it so that Ben and Dr. Lawrence could pass through first.

Ben had been expecting some kind of office, but found himself in a stairwell.

“We’re going down,” Dr. Lawrence said with a smile.

As they headed down the steps, Ben said, “Where are you taking me?”

“Processing,” she said. “We need to get information about you, where you came from, what you were doing before the outbreak, that kind of thing.”

“Oh,” he said. That made sense.

“Tell me,” she said. “What’s your name?”

“Ben. Ben Bowerman.”

“Nice to meet you, Ben.” She offered him her hand.

As he grabbed it, he realized she was wearing a latex glove. He looked down at it, then at her, confused.

“Just a precaution,” she told him.

“Do I look like I have the flu?”

“It’s not the flu that concerns us.” She paused. “Of course the flu would concern us, but we’ve all been vaccinated, so if you had it, we wouldn’t get it. There are, unfortunately, other things out there.”

At the bottom of the stairs, they entered another concrete hallway, only this corridor was considerably smaller.

“Are you feeling at all ill?” Dr. Lawrence asked him.

“No. I feel fine.”

She smiled. “Excellent. You’re one of the lucky ones, then.”

“Well, I—” Before he could share his theory that he’d become immune to the Sage Flu, Dr. Rivera stopped at another door.

“Here we are,” the man said as he pulled it open.

The area beyond had obviously once been used for business. There were several cubicles in the main area, with doors to other offices lining the back wall. Most of the cubicles were occupied, and Ben could see someone in at least two of the offices.

The doctors led him to a windowless room at the far left side. It had been set up like an examination room, complete with scale, exam table, jar of tongue depressors, and several pieces of medical equipment Ben couldn’t identify.

“On the table, please,” Dr. Lawrence said.

“I told you, I’m feeling fine,” Ben said.

“I’m sure you are,” Dr. Rivera said. “But I’m equally sure you can understand our need to check.”

While Ben did understand it, he felt uncomfortable about it.

The sooner you get through this, the sooner you can find Martina, he told himself.

He sat down on the table.

They checked his pulse, his blood pressure, his temperature, his throat, his ear, and his nose. Dr. Lawrence probed the glands along his neck and in his armpits, while Dr. Rivera looked into his eyes. They even had him strip down so they could scan what seemed like every inch of his skin.

And the whole time they asked him questions.

Where are you from?

San Mateo.

Why didn’t you go to the survival station in the Bay Area?

I was looking for my girlfriend.

Where is she from?

The desert. North of here.

So you didn’t come straight here?

No. I went to her home first. When she wasn’t there, I assumed she came here.

How old are you?

Turned twenty-one last month.

How many sick have you been around?

My parents. My sisters.

How many sisters?

Two.

Is any of them still alive?

No.

What was your job prior to the pandemic?

I didn’t have a job. I was going to school.

Where?

Santa Cruz.

What were you studying?

Anthropology.

How did you find out about the survival station?

The message on TV. From the secretary general.

When was the last time you saw the message?

I don’t know. A week ago?

You haven’t watched TV since then?

No. Should I have?

Why do you think you’re still alive?

I think I’m immune.

Ben immediately regretted saying it.

Both doctors stopped what they were doing and looked at him.

“Why would you think that?” Dr. Rivera asked.

As the interrogation progressed, Ben’s uneasiness had increased considerably. Now, with both doctors staring at him, he felt almost scared.

Something wasn’t right.

“I, um, just assumed I was,” he said. “I mean, I took care of my family when they were sick. I fed them and cleaned them up. Sometimes they coughed on me. But…but I’m still here.”

All of that was true, but it wasn’t the reason he knew he was immune. That, he decided, he’d wait to tell them after he felt more comfortable with his surroundings.

While Dr. Lawrence smiled and said, “Of course, that’s only natural,” Dr. Rivera continued to look at Ben as if he were expecting more.

After a few seconds, Ben said what he thought someone in his position would say, “Makes sense, though, right? Why else wouldn’t I be sick?”

Dr. Rivera finally looked away. “There could be many reasons,” the man said. “It could be that you have a tolerance for the disease. But I would caution you on believing that you are immune.”

“But that doesn’t really matter anymore, right?” Ben said.

“What do you mean?” Rivera asked.

“The vaccination. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Once I have that, I will be immune.”

There was an almost imperceptible hesitation before Dr. Lawrence said, “Right. Exactly.”

Her pause had been long enough to send Ben’s concerns rocketing skyward.

“So, do I get that now?” he asked.

“The procedure is a waiting period of two days before you are given the inoculation,” she said.

“Waiting period?”

“Everyone has to go through this,” she said, her tone reassuring. “We need to make sure you aren’t sick.”

“I told you, I’m not.”

“Just because you aren’t showing the signs,” Dr. Rivera said, “doesn’t mean it’s not gestating in your system.”

“But it looks like you’re right,” Dr. Lawrence said, continuing to play the good guy. “The waiting period merely gives us time for some observation and to run some tests on your blood. After that, when we know everything is fine, as I’m sure we will, you’ll receive the vaccine.”

“So what am I supposed to do until then?”

“We have an area set up here where you will wait. You’ll have a bed, warm food, entertainment if you’d like. Two days will be over before you realize it.”

The examination went on for another ten minutes, but the questioning seemed to be done. After they finished, Ben was turned over to the two guards who had accompanied the doctors earlier. They escorted him through the interior of the stadium, then down a corridor glowing with sunlight from the far end.

As they exited the corridor, Ben saw they had come out into one of the dugouts inside the stadium. The dugout was two tiered. The tier the tunnel opened onto was the lower one and covered by the dugout roof. The second tier was more a series of steps and a few flat areas right up against the railing that lined the ball field.

Beyond the field, he could see grandstands full of empty seats rising high into the sky, but it was the field itself that held his attention. Where before there had been base paths and chalk lines and grass and a pitcher’s mound, there now were fences and posts and razor wire, all strung together to form enclosures. He couldn’t tell how many, but definitely more than one.

“What is this?” he asked the guards as they guided him up the stairs to the field.

“Holding areas,” one of them said. “Keeps you isolated and safe from exposure. Only a precaution.”

The words would have been more comforting if they hadn’t sounded so rote.

When he was standing at field level, he could see two enclosures. The nearest ran from about midway between what had been home plate and third base — where it was narrowest — out a good hundred feet into left field, where it widened to about another hundred feet. A giant triangle. The second enclosure was similar, the only difference being it ran up the first-base side.

The guards led him to the gate of the nearest enclosure, opened it, and motioned him in.

“Am I the only one here?” Ben asked, looking around.

“Haven’t had a lot of people come in the last few days,” the guard closing the gate said. “There are four others.” He nodded his chin toward the building at the back of the enclosure. “Probably in the dorm.”

“So I’m just supposed to stay here?”

“For your protection.”

The guard snapped the lock closed, then he and his buddy headed back toward the dugout.

Ben stared after them until they disappeared, then he did a three-sixty and took in his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was that the grandstands surrounding the field weren’t as deserted as he’d originally thought. Spaced all the way around the stadium were ten armed soldiers. The second thing he noticed was that the fence surrounding his enclosure was not only on top of the ground but had been buried into it. That, combined with the three strands of razor wire running along the top, sent the clear message that attempting to leave was not encouraged.

Yes, he could understand precaution. Yes, he could understand the need for isolation. But what he couldn’t understand was the need to treat him like a prisoner. Because that’s what he felt like. Thirty minutes earlier he had been so elated. Now the hairs on his arms were standing on end.

Martina. He had come here for Martina. It didn’t matter if they locked him up. As long as he could find her, everything would be okay. Before he realized it, he was running toward the dorm building, thinking one of the four people inside might be her. When he reached the door, he flung it open and raced inside.

The large main room was lined with triple high bunks running down both sides. At the midway point was an open area where a few tables and some chairs were set up. The four people the guard had mentioned were sitting in the chairs facing one of the walls, with the distinct glow of a television falling on them. Instead of looking at the TV, though, they had all turned toward the door when Ben rushed in.

One man and three women, none of whom was Martina.

Their names were Ava, Grace, Melody, and Diego. None had known each other before the outbreak, though Ava and Grace had found each other prior to making the journey to the survival station.

Diego had been there the longest, ten hours shy of two days. The women had all arrived a day later, Melody first, then Ava and Grace a few hours after that. Diego said there had been six others in the holding area when he arrived, but when he woke after his first night, they were gone. The person who brought the food told him all six had cleared their quarantine period, been inoculated, and sent on to one of the UN safe zones.

“The six who were here — was one of them a girl, about eighteen, named Martina?” Ben said.

Diego shook his head. “There were only two women. One was probably around forty, and the other had to be in her seventies.”

Ben felt defeated. He had been so sure he would find her here. Of course, if she had come as soon as the survival stations opened, she could have already moved on to this safe zone.

“Are there people in the other fenced-in area?” he asked.

“I saw someone in the big one next to us last night,” Grace said. “He didn’t look well, though.”

“I’ve seen a couple there, too,” Diego said. “None of them looked too good.”

“Makes sense,” Ben said. “Separate the sick from the healthy.”

“Don’t know about the small holding area, though,” Diego said.

“Small holding area?” Ben asked. He had only seen the two.

“It’s out in center field, but the fence is covered with a tarp so you can’t see in.”

“I’ve heard some voices from over there,” Melody said. “Couldn’t understand anything, though.”

“How many voices?”

“Three or four maybe.”

“Male or female?”

“Female, I think, but I can’t be sure.”

Though he knew he was grasping at straws, Ben couldn’t help but feel a resurgence of hope. “Have any of the guards told you what that area’s for?”

“They don’t say much. I was lucky just to get one of them to tell me what happened to the people who left,” Diego said.

“Have any of you tried to get out?” Ben asked.

“Get out?” Melody said. “Why would we want to get out?”

“Doesn’t it seem kind of weird for them to lock us up like this?”

“They’re trying to keep us safe,” Ava said. “After we pass our two days, we’ll get the shot and we can go.”

“But if they’re really trying to make sure we aren’t sick, wouldn’t they put each of us in our own room?” Ben said, adding, “If one of us turned out to be sick, we could infect the others. So what good would that do?”

He could see none of them had thought about it. Confusion began leaking into their expressions.

“No,” Ava said. “I’m sure they know what they’re doing. It’s the UN, for God’s sake. They’re trying to keep people alive, so why would they do something that would harm us?”

“I don’t know,” Ben said.

“Exactly my point. We just need to do our time and everything will be fine.”

The thought had come to Ben as he was sitting there, and he wasn’t sure he was right so he decided not to push it any further. Still, it troubled him.

The conversation fell into stories about what each of them had gone through to get there. After a while, Ben said he wanted to stretch his legs and went outside.

He walked slowly around the perimeter of his holding area. When he reached the point closest to the smaller enclosure out in center field, he stopped.

Like Diego had said, the fence was covered with a green tarp. Ben was willing to bet it’d been cut from the covering that was once used to protect the playing field from rain.

He turned his ear toward the other area but could hear no voices.

Facing the tarped enclosure once more, he cupped his hands around his mouth and said, “Martina?” Even as her name left his lips, he knew he wasn’t speaking loudly enough. He tried it again, raising his volume a bit. “Martina?”

No response.

“Martina?” he said, louder.

Nothing at all.

He was tempted to shout, but didn’t know how the guards would react if they heard him. Until he discovered otherwise, drawing attention to himself didn’t seem like a good idea.

“Martina,” he said one last time.

Silence.

16

Caleb’s first attempt to remotely control the equipment at the abandoned Mumbai survival station failed miserably.

“Son of a…” He looked back at Jesse, Devin, and Mya. “What the hell did you forget?”

“We didn’t forget anything,” Devin said.

“Well, that’s obviously not true or it would be working, wouldn’t it?”

“Maybe you messed up the schematic,” Jesse said.

Caleb leveled his gaze at him. “Not possible.”

“Who’s got it?” Mya asked. “Let me see it again.”

Devin retrieved the plans Caleb had sketched out and gave them to her.

She looked at it, following lines with her finger. She moved over to the equipment rack they’d put together and glanced from the paper to the actual item and back.

“Looks good to me,” she said, holding out the paper to Caleb.

“Of course it does,” he said, snatching it from her, sounding more confident than he felt.

“Must be on Arjun’s end,” Jesse said.

The Mumbai side of things was the weak link, Caleb knew. Unfortunately, he’d only been able to talk the Indian man through what to do and couldn’t see the work.

Caleb opened the phone application, switched on the external speaker, and dialed.

“We’re having a problem,” he said once Arjun was on the line.

“What type of problem?” Arjun asked.

“I’m not able to connect into the system there. I’m going to have Jesse talk you—”

“One moment, please,” Arjun said. “Are you saying you tried already?”

“Well, yeah,” Caleb said.

“The computer would then have to be on, yes?”

Caleb groaned and looked up at the trailer’s ceiling. “Yes, of course. Are you saying it’s not?”

“Naturally.”

Caleb could feel his frustration surge, but before he could say anything, Arjun spoke again.

“You were the one who told me to leave it off until you gave me the go-ahead. You have not done this yet.”

A laugh burst out of Devin, while Mya slapped a hand over her mouth, trying to contain her amusement.

“Oops,” Jesse said.

“I am sorry,” Arjun said. “I do not think I heard that correctly.”

“It was nothing,” Caleb said quickly. “I want you to go ahead and switch on the computer.”

“Stand by, please.”

“Nice one,” Devin whispered, holding out his hand like he wanted to give Caleb a fist bump.

Caleb glared at him. “Fine. I’m not perfect.”

“I’m sorry,” Mya said. “I don’t think we heard that correctly. Can you repeat that?”

“Go to hell. All of you.” He turned back to his terminal.

A few moments later, Arjun said, “The computer is cycling up, and…there we go. It is on and asking for a password.”

“All right. Let’s see if this thing’s working.” Caleb reinitiated the link between the systems.

Three seconds passed, then the message on his screen changed from ESTABLISHING CONNECTION to CONNECTION SUCCESSFUL.

Caleb and his team shouted in triumph.

“The password box has disappeared,” Arjun said. “Does that mean it is working now?”

“Damn straight, it does,” Caleb said. “Great job, Arjun. Thank you. I’m going to hang up, but I need you to keep your phone with you in case anything comes up.”

“If I do not answer, Darshana or Sanjay will.”

“Sanjay’s there now?”

“He will be soon. He wanted to see for himself.”

Caleb spent the next hour familiarizing himself with the Project Eden operating system. When he finally felt he had a handle on things, he decided to see what else was out there.

“They’re definitely using encrypted voice transmission and e-mails. Looks like there are also some password-protected document-sharing sites.” He hunted through the code a bit more. “Oh, looks like they use a lot of video transmissions, too. There appears to be several conversations going on right now. Let’s see if we can eavesdrop on one, shall we?”

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he attempted to gain access to the video feed. He managed to break in, but the image was far too scrambled for him to make anything out, and the audio was nothing more than pops and electronic echoes that were impossible to decipher.

“Let me take a look at that,” Devin said.

While Caleb thought highly of his own skills, he was well aware there were people far better at certain tasks than he. When it came to hacking through scrambled signals, few on the planet — even when there had still been seven billion others around — were better than Devin.

Caleb scooted out of the seat and Devin moved in.

After studying the signal for nearly a minute, Devin looked back at Mya. “Can you get me my laptop? My backpack’s over by the door.”

When she returned with it, he launched a program that looked a lot like a recording studio audio board, and then used the Bluetooth function to sync with Caleb’s machine. As he adjusted the sliding levers on the laptop, the video image began to come into focus.

There were two images side by side. A graying man with a mustache on the right and another man, perhaps ten years younger, on the left.

“That’s good enough for the video right now,” Caleb said. “Try fixing the audio.”

Devin changed a setting at the top of the laptop screen and manipulated the sliders again. At first there was little change, but then sounds much more human than the digital noise from before began to seep out. Finally—

“…tons per hundred,” the older man said.

“That syncs with what I have here,” the younger one replied. “Column B?”

“Second quarter. Four hundred thirty-five metric tons per hundred. Eighty-two-point-seven-five metric tons per hundred. Nine hundred twenty-three-point-two-five metric tons per hundred. Four hundred seventy-one—”

“Sounds like someone’s doing inventory,” Mya said.

“Let’s check some of the other signals,” Caleb said.

They eavesdropped on several other equally boring conversations for thirty minutes before hitting on one that sounded more interesting. It was between an older, distinguished-looking woman and a young, well-coiffed man.

“What is that?” Mya asked. “German?”

“Dutch, I think,” Jesse said.

“Do you understand it?” Caleb asked.

Jesse shook his head.

“Do any of you?”

More shakes.

To Caleb, this conversation sounded more important than a discussion about how many sacks of flour were sitting in a particular warehouse.

“We are recording this, right?” Caleb asked.

“Every second,” Devin said.

The conversation went on for another three minutes, then both parties signed off and the signal ended.

Caleb thought for a moment before turning to Mya. “Think you can find someone who can translate that?”

“I can try. Devin, put a copy in my dropbox.”

“Will do.”

As soon as Mya left, Caleb said, “All right. Let’s see what else we can find.”

Mya thought if anyone knew about a Dutch speaker among the Resistance at Ward Mountain, it would be Crystal, and, sure enough, she did. There were two Dutch speakers at the base — a German man named Jans Stephan who also spoke Dutch, and a Belgian named Ilse Vanduffel who spoke Flemish, which, according to Crystal, was a Dutch dialect.

Mya decided to seek out Ilse since she would be the native speaker. The woman was part of the Resistance’s security forces. Mya tracked her down in one of the workout rooms, where hand-to-hand combat training was taking place. When Mya entered, those inside stopped what they were doing and looked over at her.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “I’m looking for Ilse Vanduffel.”

A tall, lean, muscular woman with short brown hair broke from the crowd. “I’m Ilse.”

“I have a translation job I need your help with.”

Ilse looked a bit put out. “Is it urgent?”

“Very.” Mya wasn’t sure she had the authority to make that call, but what the hell?

After a nod from the man who appeared to be in charge, Ilse said, “What is it I can help you with?”

They found a computer in an unoccupied office down the hall from the workout room. Mya accessed her internal network dropbox and opened the video.

“What is this?” Ilse asked before Mya hit PLAY.

“A video call between two Project Eden members.”

Ilse’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

Mya clicked the arrow to start the video. She had expected Ilse to start telling her what was being said, but the woman silently watched the entire conversation, her expression unchanged throughout.

When it was finished, Mya said, “Well? It is Dutch, isn’t it? You understood it?”

Ilse continued to look at the screen for a few more seconds before she looked over. “I understood it.” She wet her lips. “Where is Captain Ash?”

“I don’t know exactly. Somewhere around.

“We need to find him.”

Since Caleb would want to know what was going on, Mya decided they would gather back in the communications trailer. She sent Ilse ahead and went in search of Captain Ash, finding him at a back table in the cafeteria, hunched over a couple of open books with Chloe. When Mya explained the situation, they both came with her.

“Finally!” Caleb said as Mya, Ash, and Chloe entered. He gestured toward Ilse, who was sitting on a chair against the trailer wall. “Will you tell this woman it’s okay to share with us what she knows?”

“Your charm didn’t work on her?” Mya asked, smirking.

“All she said was that she’d come to tell us what the message meant, and then she promptly sat down and shut up.”

“She told me Captain Ash should hear it, too.”

Caleb spread his hands, palms up. “And telling a story twice has never happened in the whole history of mankind?”

“Cool it,” Ash said. “I’m here now, so we can get on with it.”

“Ilse,” Mya said. “Go ahead.”

Ilse stood up. “Can we play the message here?”

Mya shot a look across the room. “Devin?”

“Two seconds.”

The trailer had no large screen like in the comm room, but there was a medium-sized HD monitor at the empty station next to where Devin was sitting. Within seconds, it filled with a still image of the recorded video conversation.

Before Devin could click PLAY, Ilse said, “One moment.” She walked over to the screen and pointed. “This man is Dutch. If I have to guess, I would say he was from Amsterdam or very nearby. The woman refers to him as van Assen. That would be his surname. She never says his entire name. The woman is not Dutch nor is she Flemish. While she speaks Dutch very well, it is not her native language. By her accent, I would say she is possibly English, but more likely American or Canadian.”

“Is her name mentioned?” Ash asked.

“He calls her only Director.” She looked at Devin. “Please start.”

As the video played, Ilse gave a running translation.

DIRECTOR: …as you promise.

VAN ASSEN: So my file?

DIRECTOR: Contains a commendation for your work in Mumbai, and clears you of any responsibility for what occurred.

VAN ASSEN: I very much appreciate that, Director. Thank you.

DIRECTOR: You earned it, so no need for any thanks.

VAN ASSEN: My new assignment starts in a few hours, so I won’t bother you any longer.

DIRECTOR: There has been a change of plans.

VAN ASSEN: Change?

DIRECTOR: You will not be joining the transition division in Madrid.

VAN ASSEN: I won’t? Then where do I report?

DIRECTOR: You will be reporting directly to me.

VAN ASSEN: Oh. Thank you, Director. I’m honored. I will arrange transportation and can be there as early as tomorrow.

DIRECTOR: Hold on. You will be reporting to me, but you will not be coming here. I’m sending you back to India.

VAN ASSEN: What?

DIRECTOR: There is a new…structure in place. One I am part of. But if I am going to do my job effectively, I need to keep an eye on my colleagues. You will be my eyes in Jaipur. You are to proceed to NB551, where you will fill an opening on Director Parkash Mahajan’s staff. While you carry out your daily duties for the director, you will keep me informed on the director’s activities. I assume this is not outside your abilities.”

VAN ASSEN: Not at all, Director. It would be an honor to serve you.

DIRECTOR: Then I would say you have a very bright future in the Project.

“You can stop now,” Ilse said.

As the image paused, Ash said, “Is there more?”

“They talk for another few minutes. Details that I can translate and write down, but the main focus of the conversation ends here.”

Ash looked back at the screen. Director was a term used at many different levels within Project Eden — department directors, facility directors, division directors, to name a few. The woman could have been any of these. But from the way she and this van Assen were talking, and the scant description of Director Mahajan, Ash had the sense the woman was much higher up in the organization. Wanting to keep tabs on another director not stationed anywhere near where she was could mean her position was right near the top, if not within the innermost circle itself.

Since the death of the previous principal director in the destruction of NB219, Project Eden would have quickly moved to fill the leadership vacuum. But without access to Matt’s contacts within the Project, the Resistance had yet to learn who or what filled that vacuum. Was this conversation a clue to that?

Ash looked over at Mya. “Can we bring up our database in here? I want to see what we have on this Parkash Mahajan.”

She scanned the room, but before she could answer, Devin said, “I can bring it up on my laptop.”

“Do it.”

Less than a minute later, Ash, Chloe, and the others were huddled behind Devin. On the computer screen was the Resistance’s information sheet on Parkash Mahajan. There weren’t as many details as Ash would have liked, but enough to show Mahajan was indeed high up within the Project Eden leadership structure. The most recent information listed him as possible regional director of Southern and Southeast Asia.

“If he’s a regional director, then the woman must be at least that level, too,” Ash said. “Is there a way to bring up a list of other presumed regional directors?”

“Let me see,” Devin said.

He ended up having to cobble it together, so it took him a few minutes, but when he finished, he had a list of eleven names.

“That can’t be all of them,” Chloe said.

“It isn’t,” Devin said. “But it’s as complete as I can get.”

There were several regions not listed but must have had directors: western Africa, the Middle East through the area around the Black Sea, Northern Europe, Australia and New Zealand, and the Pacific Islands area, though the last may have been covered in full or in part by the western South America director or the East Asia director.

Ash scanned the list and zeroed in on two names — Marlene Lee, who was thought to be in charge of the southern Africa region, and Celeste Johnson, in charge of the eastern half of North America. Both were names that could have easily been found in the States.

“Are there any photos of these people?” he asked.

“I doubt it,” Devin said.

“Can you check? I’m interested in Marlene Lee and Celeste Johnson.”

Devin set up the search, then shook his head. “Nothing on Celeste Johnson.” He switched the parameters to Marlene Lee and studied the results. “This might be something.” He clicked on the link.

Ash stared, surprised, when the picture appeared on the screen. It was a candid shot of a group coming out of what appeared to be a conference room. Most of those in the image were men Ash had seen before, though they were not as old as when he had been in their presence.

“The pre-flu directorate,” he said.

He could feel Chloe tensing next to him, and knew she recognized the men, too. These were some of the Project Eden leaders who had died at Bluebird, the Project’s base on Yanok Island, from where the pandemic had been initiated.

Devin pointed at the screen. “According to the photo tag, that’s Marlene Lee.”

The woman he indicated was half turned away from the camera, and mostly blocked from view by the others. But there was enough detail to see she was Asian, not Caucasian like the woman on the video call.

“All right. At least we know the woman’s not Marlene Lee,” Chloe said.

“Doesn’t tell us if she’s Celeste Johnson, though,” Devin said.

“No, it doesn’t,” Ash said. “But I’m willing to bet it’s her. Do we have a location on Ms. Johnson?”

Devin checked the database and shook his head. “It says here that she is probably located at one of the Project’s facilities on the East Coast, but it doesn’t say which one.”

“Van Assen said New York,” Mya said.

“That might be as close to a confirmation as we can get,” Chloe said.

Ash leaned back, thinking.

After he’s gone, we’ll go after the next set of leaders and the next and the next. Each time we succeed, the Project becomes more unbalanced.

Matt’s words, said after he’d told Ash and Chloe he was going after Principal Director Perez. A keep-knocking-them-down-until-they-stay-down strategy. It was as sound a plan as the Resistance could hope for.

“Maybe there’s someone who can pinpoint where Director Johnson is for sure,” Ash said. “We can look into that in a bit. In the meantime, we do know where Mahajan is. NB551 in Jaipur.” He looked around. “Do we have anyone near there?”

He was greeted with blank faces.

“We don’t handle that,” Caleb said. “Operations would know, or the comm center.”

Ash looked around at all the equipment. “I assume you can connect me from here.”

Twenty seconds later, he was talking to Crystal.

“The closest people we have are in Thailand and Singapore,” she said, her voice coming out of the speaker on Caleb’s computer. “But they’re pretty tied up.”

“There’s no one in India?”

“We had three teams there. But two had to be diverted to help out in southern China, and the third’s been sent to deal with a sizable group of survivors in Sri Lanka.”

Ash pressed his lips together, annoyed.

“I’m open to suggestions,” he said.

“I would have to check on statuses, but I might be able to free up someone in a few days.”

Ash didn’t like the delay, but it was better than not sending anyone at all. “All right. See what you—”

Mya said, “What about Sanjay’s people?”

Ash looked over at her.

“I mean, they’re in India already,” she said. “I don’t know how far Jaipur is from where they are, but they’ve got to be able to get there sooner than a few days, right?”

She had a point.

“Can someone tell me how far it is?”

“Checking,” Devin said. “Um, it’s not exactly close. Seven hundred thirty-five miles or thereabouts. Maybe sixteen hours of driving?”

As Mya said, still sooner than a few days.

“Can we get Sanjay on the phone?” Ash asked Crystal.

“Actually,” Caleb said, “we can do it from here. If he’s not at the Mumbai survival station yet, he should be soon.”

“Get him on the line.”

17

A loud ring jerked Arjun awake. He blinked and looked around, surprised to find he was sitting in the communications room chair. He had meant to stretch out on the blanket he’d spread on the floor, but he seemed to have fallen asleep right there at the desk. No wonder, though. It had been a long night.

A ring again, off to his left. As he twisted to see where it was coming from, he winced. His less-than-optimal sleeping posture had left a kink in his neck. As he rubbed the sore muscle, there was another ring.

The sat phone.

Answering it, he said, “This is Arjun.”

“It’s Crystal,” the woman said. “Has Sanjay arrived yet?”

“Uh, I am not sure. I have not seen him yet. Give me a moment and I will check. If he is here, I will have him call you.”

“Thank you. As soon as possible.”

Arjun made the journey down from the rooftop room into the main building, and hunted around until he heard voices coming from the dining hall on the ground floor. There he found Darshana, Sanjay, Kusum, and Prabal drinking tea.

“Ah,” Sanjay said. “You are awake.”

“Awake? I was…working,” Arjun said. “I was not asleep.”

“So you have mastered the art of working with your eyes closed?” Darshana said, an eyebrow raised.

Apparently someone had paid him a visit while he napped. “Okay, okay,” he said. “Perhaps I was asleep for a little while.”

Sanjay smiled. “You should not worry. You have to sleep sometime, my friend. Come, have some tea.”

“Actually, Sanjay, I have—” Arjun stopped as he accidentally turned his head a millimeter the wrong way, sending a shockwave of pain down his neck.

Darshana stood up. “Are you all right?”

He held up a hand. “I am fine. Just a muscle pull.”

“May I suggest you use a bed next time you want to sleep?” Kusum said.

There were smiles all around and a few chuckles.

Arjun glared at all of them before allowing himself a small grin. “I would laugh with you, but it would hurt too much.” He pulled the sat phone out of his back pocket. “Sanjay, the Americans would like to talk to you.”

“About what?” Sanjay asked as he took the phone.

“I did not ask.”

Sanjay pressed the preset they’d assigned to the Americans’ number, then put the call on speaker so his friends could all hear.

The voice that answered belonged to the woman named Crystal.

“I understand you are looking for me,” Sanjay said.

“Oh, Sanjay. Great. Hold on.”

The line went silence for well over a minute before a new voice said, “Sanjay, it’s Daniel Ash.”

“Hello, Captain Ash,” Sanjay said.

“Good morning, I guess. It is morning there?”

“Yes. It is.”

There was a pause. “First, I want to thank you and your friends. What you’ve found there and helped us gain access to is vitally important. We’ve already learned quite a bit.”

“I am pleased to hear that.”

“There’s something we’ve discovered that…well, we could use your help on.”

“Of course. We are not technicians, but we will do what we can.”

“This actually has nothing to do with the equipment or anything there in Mumbai.”

Sanjay exchanged a surprised look with his friends.

“Then what does it have to do with?” he asked.

“Something that involves a trip.” Ash told them about the intercepted message and learning about a potential Project Eden leader working out of Jaipur. “What we would like — if you’re willing, of course — is for one or two of your people to go there and quietly survey the area so we can determine if there’s a way to exploit the situation.”

“You want us to find this Director Mahajan?”

“We haven’t been able to obtain a picture of him yet. Besides, he’s likely to stay inside the base, out of sight. You might, however, have the opportunity to spot the man whose conversation we overheard. He’s lower level, so he might venture outside on occasion. From the information we have here, the base is located within blocks of the Jaipur survival station. Unfortunately, we don’t have the exact coordinates of the base. But there will likely be some back and forth between the two facilities, so if you spot this guy at the station, he should be able to lead you to the base. He’s Caucasian, and I couldn’t tell for sure from the video, but think he’s about five ten, maybe six feet.” Ash’s voice became muffled as he asked a question to someone on his end. When he came back on, he said, “That’s a hundred eighty or a hundred eighty-two centimeters, or thereabouts. We’re all but positive he’s Dutch. I’ll have someone grab an image from the video and send it to you.”

“What happens after we find this man or the director?” Sanjay asked.

“Good question. The way we see things is that if we can keep them off balance, we might have a chance to defeat them. So, depending on the situation you find there, if there’s a chance we can take the director out, we’ll send some people over to do that. That isn’t a problem for you, is it?”

“Absolutely not.”

If Sanjay had his way, he would undertake the spy mission on his own, but Kusum was not about to let him go off alone.

“All right, all right,” he said, knowing it was an argument he would never win. “I’ll take Arjun with me.”

“Arjun has been working with the Americans the most. He should stay.”

“Okay,” he said, knowing she was right. “You and I.”

“And Darshana,” she said.

“Why Darshana?”

“It is a long trip, so I assume we will take a car and not our motorbikes. With three drivers we will not need to rest. Or, if you prefer, we could take Prabal instead of Darshana,” she suggested.

“No, no. Darshana is fine.”

Prabal had made quite a mess of things here in Mumbai before the survival station was abandoned, and while he’d been trying hard to rectify his actions — actions which, admittedly, worked out for the better in the end — Prabal was a bit of a walking disaster, so taking him along was not an option Sanjay wanted to consider.

Sanjay located a Toyota dealer on Lal Bahadur Shastri Road, picked out a brand new Land Cruiser, and returned to the survival station, where he, Kusum, and Darshana loaded enough supplies into the back to sustain them for several days. When they were done, they went inside to let Arjun and Prabal know they were leaving.

Both men were up in the communications room, so Sanjay called up the stairwell, “We are all set. Our satellite phone will be on if you need to reach us.”

“Wait!” Arjun said.

He climbed down the ladder, still clearly bothered by the pulled muscle in his neck. When he reached the bottom, he pulled a smartphone out of his pocket.

“Here,” he said, handing it to Sanjay.

“What do I need this for?” The regular cellular system had gone out of commission only a few days after the outbreak started.

“The picture. I put it on there.”

“What picture?”

“From Mr. Ash. Of the Dutchman.”

Right. In his rush to leave, Sanjay had forgotten. He put the phone in his pocket and held out his hand to his friend. “If you have any problems, let us know.”

“Same for you,” Arjun said. “And whatever you do, do not let them see you.”

18

Dr. Lawrence ran the test a second time, but the results were exactly the same. She hurried over to the lab door and stuck her head out into the main medical room.

“Dr. Rivera, can you come here for a moment?”

Not waiting for a response, she returned to the workstation, where the results of the two separate tests run on Ben Bowerman’s blood were displayed side by side on the computer monitor. As she checked them again, she heard Dr. Rivera enter the room.

“What is it?” he asked. “Is he sick?”

There was no need to indentify the detainee he was talking about. Bowerman was the only intake they’d had all day.

“Not sick,” Dr. Lawrence said. “Immune.”

“Are you sure?”

“He has the antibodies. He’s had KV-27a.”

“But he doesn’t look like he just got over it,” Rivera said. “He looks fine.”

She locked eyes with him. “I don’t think he had it recently.”

The corner of his mouth rose as he realized what she meant. “Another one?”

“Yes.”

“Incredible.”

“Isn’t it?”

The stadium lights lit up the field, holding back the night.

Outside, a whistle sounded twice.

“Finally!” Diego said.

“What’s that mean?” Ben asked.

“Dinner,” Melody told him.

They walked outside into the cool but not uncomfortable evening.

“We wait here,” Diego said, after taking only a few steps from the building.

“Why?” Ben asked.

“It’s what we’re supposed to do.”

It wasn’t much of an answer, but before Ben could pursue it further, the gate on the other side of their yard opened, and a guard entered, his rifle held high against his chest. He was followed by two men, each carrying a pair of individually wrapped trays. They set them on the ground, exited, and then one returned with an additional tray.

As soon as they had all left and the gate was closed, Diego said, “Okay.”

They retrieved their food and took it back into the building, taking seats around the tables in the central area. The sound of crinkling aluminum foil filled the room for a moment as they removed the covers from their food.

Dinner consisted of salad, fried rice with chicken, and sliced fruit. There was also a bottle of water and a small piece of cherry pie. Ben picked up the plastic fork and wondered if those in the sick holding area received the same food.

He froze, a forkful of rice inches from his mouth.

The other holding areas.

He dropped the utensil on his plate and shot out of his chair.

“Where you going?” Ava asked.

Without answering, he ran outside. If he hadn’t already missed it, he thought this might be his opportunity to see into the tarp-covered area, when the guards opened the gate to deliver dinner.

He hustled around to the back corner of the fence. The third enclosure looked unchanged from the last time he’d checked it out. Had dinner been delivered?

He studied the fence, and then groaned. Of course. There was no break in the fence that he could see, so the gate must have been on the backside, out of his view. He pushed away from the fence and headed back around to the dorm entrance.

But as he came around the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks. The gate to his holding area was open again. This time there were four guards — two by the opening, and two accompanying Drs. Lawrence and Rivera as they walked toward the dorm.

Seeing him, they too stopped.

After a moment of confusion, Dr. Lawrence smiled and said, “Mr. Bowerman. Excellent. We were looking for you. Please, come with us.”

“Come with you where?”

“Please,” she said, motioning him to join them.

In contrast to Dr. Lawrence’s friendly demeanor, the two guards stared at him, as if ready to swing their rifles around and shoot him at the slightest protest.

“Mr. Bowerman?” Dr. Rivera said.

Knowing he had no choice, Ben nodded and walked over.

“Thank you,” Dr. Lawrence said as they escorted him out of the pen. “We’ll go over here for a moment.” She gestured to the third-base-side dugout.

After they took the steps down, Dr. Rivera pointed at the bench. “Have a seat.”

Ben did as asked. “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

“Not at all,” Dr. Lawrence said. “We just need to draw a little more blood. Our fault. We had a problem with the earlier sample.”

Quickly and efficiently, they poked his arm and filled another vial.

“That’s it,” Dr. Lawrence said, placing a bandage over the puncture wound. She turned to the guards. “All yours.”

“Up,” one of the guards said to Ben.

They led him back onto the field, but instead of heading to his holding area, they took him to the left along the outside of the fence. When they reached the corner out in left field, they veered right toward the tarp-covered enclosure.

“What’s going on?” Ben asked.

“You’re being relocated.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have that information.”

As much as Ben wanted to see who was inside the mysterious pen, he couldn’t help feeling nervous as he approached it.

“What’s this area for?” he asked.

The guards said nothing as they took him around to the side that faced the center-field wall. There, as he’d already guessed, was the gate. After it was unlocked and opened, Ben was pushed firmly, but not unkindly, inside.

The gate closed behind him and the lock clicked into place.

What the hell just happened?

He turned in a circle, assessing his new surroundings.

Like in the other areas, there was a building here, though it was only about a third the size of the dorm he’d been in, leaving an outside area that wasn’t much bigger than his parents’ yard in San Mateo. The tarp was attached to the outside of the fence and blocked some of the stadium lights, creating areas of shadow here and there.

As he turned to look at the building, he saw a woman looking out one of the windows at him. He headed over and pulled the door open.

“Hello,” he said, stepping inside. “Didn’t mean to scare anyone. Guess I’ve been assigned here.”

There were bunks here, too, but they were only two high. As he came around the set nearest the door, he saw at least a dozen people sitting on chairs in a small open area at the far end, all staring at him. They were men and women ranging anywhere from late teens to probably mid-fifties.

As he started walking toward them, a teenage girl rose out of her chair. “Is Martina with you?”

Ben jammed to a halt, his breath gone. “Martina?”

The girl took a few steps toward him. “You’re Ben, Martina’s boyfriend, right? I remember you.”

“From where?”

“Cryer’s Corner. You…you were there with us.”

Cryer’s Corner? That was where he’d met Martina, where they had both been exposed to the—

He took a hard look at the girl. “You were on the softball team with her.”

“Yeah. I’m Jilly.”

“Right. Jilly. I remember.”

Out of habit, he held out his hand to shake, but instead of taking it, Jilly threw her arms around his neck.

“You’re alive! She said you would be!”

He pushed her back. “Why did you think she’d be with me? Isn’t she here?”

“No, of course not,” Jilly said, looking confused. “She went looking for you. Didn’t she find you? Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“I haven’t seen her since before the flu hit.”

“Oh,” Jilly said, concern creeping into her voice. “But…oh, no.”

“Do you know where she went to look?” he asked.

“She didn’t say. I assumed she was going up north. That’s where you’re from, right?”

He could feel the blood draining from his face, as he realized they must have crossed paths and missed each other. She was still out there somewhere, looking for him. He should have never come here. He should have known she’d look until she found him.

“When did you see her last?” he asked.

“New Year’s Eve.”

Five days ago. Five whole days!

Someone — Jilly probably, but in his daze he wasn’t sure — led him to the seating area and eased him into one of the chairs. He didn’t know how long he was lost in thought, but when he finally regained some sense of his surroundings, he saw that everyone was gathered around, watching him.

“You all right?” a man of about forty said. “You’re not going to throw up or anything, are you?”

“No,” Ben said, his voice low. “I’m not going to throw up.”

Jilly knelt next to him and put a hand on his arm. “I’m sure she’s all right. Martina’s pretty good at taking care of herself.”

“But she’s still out there. How am I ever going to find her?”

“You don’t have to. She’ll come here eventually. That’s what she said she’d do after she found you. When she doesn’t, she and the others will probably show up.”

“Others?”

“Noreen and Riley and Craig went with her.”

Ben didn’t know who Riley or Craig were, but he knew Noreen. She was one of Martina’s best friends. At least Martina wasn’t out there alone.

All right, he told himself, she’ll be okay. Jilly’s right. Martina can take care of herself.

His panic subsiding a bit, he allowed himself to take a good look at the others in the room. “I recognize some of you from the softball team,” he said, “but the rest of you weren’t at Cryer’s Corner.”

“No,” a woman said. “I’m from Sage Springs. So’s AJ over there.” She nodded toward another woman.

“I’m from Victorville,” said the man who’d asked if Ben would throw up. “In fact, we’re all from the high desert.”

“You’re all from the desert?” Ben said. “Nowhere else?”

“Well, you’re not,” Jilly said.

“You’re right. I’m not.” Ben fell silent for a moment before it hit him. “But I was there during the first outbreak. I caught the flu before. So did you girls.” He looked at those who hadn’t been at Cryer’s Corner. “Did you all get it, too, last spring? You were all sick?”

Nods and a few uh-huhs.

Everyone.

Holy shit. “Were there others?”

“What do you mean, others?” another man asked.

“In here with you guys when you were first brought in,” Ben said.

One of Martina’s old teammates snorted a laugh. “This place wasn’t here before us. One morning there was nothing but grass, and by the end of the day, our new home. That evening they moved us all in.”

“And no one else,” he said.

“No one,” Jilly said.

Ben did not like where this was going. “Did any of you tell them that you had the flu before?”

Most of the people who hadn’t been on the Burroughs High School softball team answered yes.

“We didn’t,” Jilly said. “We were afraid they wouldn’t give us the vaccine if they knew.”

“Apparently they figured it out anyway,” Ben said. “You all had your blood tested, right?”

They all had.

“I don’t understand why the UN would put us by ourselves,” a girl said.

“Maybe so they can use our blood to make more vaccine,” someone suggested.

One of the members of Martina’s softball team — Valerie, if Ben remembered correctly — rolled her eyes and said, “They already have a vaccine, remember? That’s why we came.”

“If you ask me, these people aren’t with the UN,” a ponytailed girl said.

“What makes you say that?” Ben asked. Though he’d been thinking the same thing, he hadn’t been here as long as the others so he’d thought he might be overreacting.

“Well, for starters, that message we saw on TV said that everyone who showed up would get the vaccine. When we were still in the other area, not one of the people in there had been given it.”

Ben said, “The people I talked to who are in there right now told me there was a two-day waiting period, and then after you were inoculated, you were sent to a safe zone where everyone’s being gathered.”

“Maybe,” the ponytailed girl said. “But we all know how the guards look at us. They pretty much act like we’re cattle. If this was really some kind of UN humanitarian operation, they’d treat us a hell of a lot better, no matter how bad things have become.” She smirked. “I’ll tell you something else. If the UN was really running things, there’d be a whole lot more problems, don’t you think?”

“Problems?” Jilly said.

“Sure. Operation this size, presumably worldwide, pulled together a matter of days after the outbreak of all outbreaks, would be bursting with screwups. They couldn’t avoid it. The world is falling apart. There would at least be some chaos. But we arrived the first day this place opened, and it’s been operating like they’ve been doing this for years.”

“The rest of you feel the same?” Ben asked.

“I hadn’t thought about it that way, but Ruby’s right,” Jilly said. “Things have been too well organized.”

“You guys are overthinking things,” one of the men said. “If you’re looking for problems, I’d bet there are plenty. We just haven’t seen them.”

A few of the older adults mumbled agreement.

“Besides,” the guy said, “if they’re not UN, who are they?”

No one had an answer for that.

Soon most everyone wandered off to bed, leaving only Ben and the girls from Ridgecrest still awake.

Ben asked them what had happened after the virus was released, and how they got there. As the girls talked, they all began hearing snores and deep breathing from the beds.

Ruby was in the middle of describing the day they left Ridgecrest when she shot a look back at the bunks, leaned forward, and whispered, “I think we should get out of here.”

“Oh, really?” Valerie said. “And how do you expect us to do that? If you haven’t noticed, they’ve got us locked up tight.”

Ben broke the silence that followed. “Actually, there is one potential weak point.”

“And what would that be?” Valerie asked.

“This holding area is built near the center-field wall. The gap between the gate and the wall is no more than twenty feet, and the enclosure fence blocks some of the stadium lights back there. So it’s darker than the rest of the stadium.”

“And what good is that supposed to do us?”

“It also blocks the view of most of the guards.”

“You’re sure?” Jilly asked.

“Pretty sure.”

“All right, smart guy, two problems,” Valerie, Miss Negativity, said. “So how do we get on the other side of the fence, and if we do, what happens then? Correct me if I’m wrong, they may not see us at first, but they’ll see us for sure if climb over the outfield wall.”

“Jesus, Valerie, do you expect all the answers right off the bat?” Jilly said, glaring at the girl. “Yeah, those are problems, but it’s at least worth thinking about, right? Unless you want to just sit here and see what happens.”

Valerie’s cheeks reddened as her eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that. I’m in charge here. I decide what we do.”

The other girls started shifting uncomfortably in their chairs.

“Excuse me?” Jilly said. “I don’t recall you being appointed dictator.”

“You are a hair’s width from crossing the line.”

“That’s too bad. I was hoping I’d already jumped over it. Want to know what I really think?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I think we should have all gone with Martina. I think it was a mistake to follow you here.”

Valerie jumped out of her chair, looking as if she wanted to launch herself at Jilly.

Ben rose quickly to his feet. “Whoa. Let’s all calm down. We’re just talking here.”

“Shut the fuck up. You’re not part of this,” Valerie said, then looked at the others. “This kind of bullshit fantasy talk isn’t going to get us anywhere, so I think it’s time we all got some sleep.”

She headed down the aisle toward one of the bunks near the door. No one moved for several seconds, then the tall blonde girl mumbled, “Good night,” and headed off for bed. Slowly, the others did the same, until the only ones left were Ben, Jilly, and Ruby.

“What was that all about?” Ben whispered.

“If you weren’t Martina’s boyfriend, I think she would have been more open to the idea,” Ruby said, her voice as low as his.

“What does Martina have to do with it?”

“It’s stupid,” Jilly said. “Not even worth talking about. Let’s just say they’ve been butting heads for a very long time.”

“To hell with her,” Ruby said. She looked at Ben. “I say we figure out a way for us to escape. The others will come.”

“Count me in, too,” Jilly said.

Ben smiled. “I don’t think we have to figure anything out.”

“What do you mean?” Ruby asked.

“Didn’t you guys ever watch the Dodgers play?”

Jilly shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“Well, I watched them every time the Giants were down here,” he said.

“Oh, wonderful. A Giants fan,” Rudy said, feigning disgust.

“You should be happy you have a Giants fan here because I happen to know a little fact about the part of the center-field wall right behind us.”

“And what’s that?” Ruby asked.

“It swings open.”

19

Omega Three took a drag on his cigarette as he began another three-sixty scan of the town.

It wasn’t a large place, so he could see pretty much everything from his post on the roof of the three-story school. Power to the town had been out for nearly two weeks now, but unlike other places in the world, this had not been due to system failure or emergency shutdown. The electricity here had been intentionally terminated within minutes after the Implementation Day go signal was received. The purpose had been twofold: first, killing the lights made it possible for those on sentry duty to use night-vision gear after sunset, greatly decreasing the chances of missing unwanted visitors; and second, cutting the power ensured the town’s native population would die faster.

It had been six days since the last resident was seen on the snowy streets. A thorough check three days later confirmed no one remained alive — an assignment Omega Three was glad he hadn’t drawn.

The town tonight was as quiet as it had been on all the other nights. The only signs of life he’d picked up were those of Omega One, Two, and Four, all of whom were at their assigned positions.

“Omega team, this is Tau One.” The earpiece of Omega Three’s comm gear was so high quality, it almost sounded like Tau One was standing right next to him.

“Tau One, this is Omega One,” the Omega team leader replied. “Go ahead.”

“Tau team deploying now.”

“Copy, Tau One.”

Omega Three turned his attention toward the northern edge of town, and immediately spotted the glowing green blobs of the four-man Tau team. He followed its progress, and watched as every few blocks one member would peel off onto a different road. The last man headed straight for the school. Omega Three tracked him until he entered the building.

One minute later, at exactly fifteen seconds before eleven p.m., the roof door opened and the Tau team member stepped out.

When the man reached the lookout position, he said, “Tau Two reporting. You’re relieved.”

Omega Three stepped back and pulled the goggles from his eyes. “Thank you. All quiet. Have a good evening.”

As Tau Two moved into place, Omega Three headed for the door.

Retracing the path the relief crew had taken, he met up with the other members of Omega team. Like always, no one said a word as they walked out of town, passed the dead-end barrier that marked the end of the road, and into the snow-covered field. Sitting in the center of the clearing was a five-by-four-foot, concrete-sided building. To the casual observer, it looked like nothing more than a pumping station or perhaps a utility hut. It had a single door and no windows, and was painted a light shade of gray.

What the casual observer would not notice, even if he or she had moved in for a closer examination, were the micro cameras fitted into the eaves on all sides. They looked like nothing more than holes where screws were embedded.

And while there was a dead-bolt key slot on the door, it was only for show. The real lock was triggered by those on the inside.

Omega team trudged across the field to the building and stopped five feet in front of the door, as they’d been trained to do. For several seconds nothing happened, and then there was a faint click.

Omega One grabbed the handle of the door and pulled it open. One by one they filed inside the twenty-square-foot room, the last, Omega Four, securing the door behind him.

There were no pipes on the walls, no electrical junction boxes, no pumps, no transformers, no telecommunications switches. There were simply a light in the ceiling that came on when the door was closed, and a round metal cover on the floor.

Several more seconds passed before the hatch lifted soundlessly, revealing the forty-foot vertical tunnel that led to Project Eden’s most secret base.

To home, as Omega Three had come to think of it.

To Dream Sky.