The Atlantis Plague (The Origin Mystery 2)

“Uncle Paul!”

His nephew rolled over in the bed. He was bright-eyed, but when he tried to push up, his muscles failed him, and he collapsed back onto the bed.

Paul rushed to the bedside and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Take it easy, kiddo.”

The boy smiled at him. “You fixed me up, didn’t you?”

“No. It was another doctor. She’s much smarter than I am. I was just the delivery man.”

“Where’s Mom?”

Paul leaned forward, scooped the small boy into his arms, and headed out of the room. “Just rest now.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going home.”

Paul would wait until the boy was stronger to tell him.

Until they both were stronger.

Kate had long since closed the laptop and moved to the end of the rock cliff.

David was there, behind her, waiting silently.

He seemed to sense that she needed some space, but he still wouldn’t let her out of his sight.

Together, from the mountaintop, they watched the sun sink beyond the Atlantic. Its last rays slid down the mountain, casting a long shadow on the bloody scene at Ceuta. Across the straits, she knew the same thing was happening in Gibraltar, with the Rock of Gibraltar casting the shadows there.

When the night arrived, Kate finally said, “What happens now? To us?”

“Nothing changes.”

“I’ve changed. I’m not the same person—”

“What you just did confirmed to me who you are. We are going to be just fine. I can wait.” He walked to the edge of the rock cliff so that he could and looked her in the eyes. “I never give up on anyone I love.”

As his words were spoken, Kate realized that the most important part of her was still there. She wasn’t entirely herself, but there was some piece of the old Kate there, something to start from. She smiled.

David tried to read her expression. He shrugged. “What? Too much?”

She took his hand. “No. I liked it. Come on. Let’s go see what Milo’s doing.”

At the entrance to the tunnel, she said, “I think you’re right. We’re going to be just fine.”

EPILOGUE

Arecibo Observatory

Arecibo, Puerto Rico

Dr. Mary Caldwell moved the mouse back and forth to wake up the computer. The screen came to life and began displaying the data collected overnight. The radio telescope outside her window was a thousand feet in diameter—the largest single-aperture telescope in the world. It was sunk into the ground, looking almost like a smooth gray plate that sat on a high plateau overlooking the green forested mountains beyond.

The first rays of sunlight were peeking over the mountains, into the dish. Mary never missed watching the scene, but it wasn’t the same now, mostly because of the people they had lost.

Before the plague, there had been a dozen researchers manning the observatory; now there were three. Arecibo had been losing staff for years due to budget cuts. The plague had gotten the rest.

Yet Mary returned for her shift each day, as she had done for the previous six years. She had nowhere else to go, and there was nowhere else she wanted to be. She knew the U.S. government would get around to withdrawing their power allocation any day now, but she had decided to stay to the end, until the last lights went out. Then she would venture out into the world to see what sort of work there was for an astronomer.

She would have killed for a cup of coffee, but it had run out weeks ago.

She focused on the computer. There was… She clicked one of the data feeds. Mary’s throat went dry. She ran an analysis, then another. Both confirmed that the signal was organized. Not random cosmic background radiation.

It was a message.

No, it was more than that: it was the moment she had waited for her entire life.

She glanced at the phone. In her mind, she had rehearsed this scene for the last twenty years, since she had first dreamed of becoming an astronomer. Her first instinct was to call the National Science Foundation. But she had called them—once a week since the outbreak. And gotten no answer. She had also called SRI International—with the same results. Who to call? The White House? Who would believe her? She needed help, someone to analyze the transmission. The SETI Institute in Mountain View, California? She hadn’t tried them. She’d had no reason to… Maybe—

John Bishop, another scientist on the project, stumbled into the office. He was usually only sober for about an hour after he woke up.

“John, I found something—”

“Please God tell me it’s more coffee.”

“It’s not coffee…”