The Atlantis Plague (The Origin Mystery 2)

“Where it lay buried for almost thirteen thousand years, until 1918, when my father helped the Immari find it,” Kate said.

“Exactly. The puzzling part is the notation: Missing Delta?”

“Delta signifies change,” Kate said. “‘Missing Delta’… So a change didn’t happen?”

“If we piece together Martin’s code, the tapestry, and what I saw that night in Gibraltar… In the first two floods on the tapestry, the Atlanteans interact directly with humans. Saving them or warning them. This implies a direct relationship.”

Kate sat back in her chair. “What if the Atlanteans were somehow guiding human evolution? Like an experiment with periodic intervention—and that intervention failed to happen 12,500 years ago because of the ship’s explosion: the fall of Atlantis.”

“I believe that’s what Martin thought.” A thought struck David; did he have the other piece of the puzzle?

In Antarctica, when David was in the tube, the Atlantean had released Dorian first—given him a head start. The Atlantean had watched David and Dorian fight to the death, as if he knew the outcome, as if the Atlantean were simply waiting for his champion to triumph—Dorian.

David had died a second time in Antarctica. But unlike his first death, he hadn’t resurrected in Antarctica. He had awoken in the Atlantis structure in Gibraltar—a section at the base of Jebel Musa in Morocco. Someone had made David resurrect there. Another Atlantean? David had noticed another damaged suit on the floor of the resurrection room. He tried to think back to the holomovie. Neither of the suits had been damaged during the events, he was sure of it.

Yet, the fact was undeniable: another Atlantean had brought him back—after Dorian and the Atlantean in Antarctica had killed him.

Another faction? One clearly wanted him dead. The other had saved him.

David was now sure of two things. One, that the Atlanteans were waging some sort of civil war. And two, that there was no way he was telling Kate or the two scientists what had happened to him. It was too… fantastic, even for him to believe—and it had happened to him.

“I have a theory,” David said. “I believe what I witnessed—the Atlantis disaster—wasn’t a natural phenomenon. I think it was an attack.”

“By whom?” Chang asked.

“I don’t know,” David said. “But what if there were two factions of Atlanteans—or a traitor, someone who sabotaged the ship, preventing some intervention? I mean look at the broad arc of human history. All the major stuff happened in the last thirteen thousand years—agriculture, cities, writing, you name it. The population chart explodes around this time. It coincides with the end of the glacial maximum and warmer weather, but…”

Janus leaned forward. “I find your ‘missing intervention’ theory intriguing. I see one hole, however. The next step in the chronology: ‘535…1257, Toba 2, Delta’—that implies a change did happen then—recently. And from the videos, you say the ship was destroyed.”

David nodded. “I think those two Atlanteans must have died in Gibraltar. It’s the only explanation. I think whoever killed them facilitated the change in 535.”

Janus nodded. “Which leads me to my conclusion: if an Atlantean intervened in 535—another delta, as you say—where are they? If they have the power to control human evolution, where are they hiding?”

David pondered the question. He didn’t have an answer, and it was, in truth, a very good question. The fact that he had advanced so many ideas made him feel a little defensive, as if he had to keep throwing out more possibilities to corroborate his theory. He felt himself tensing a bit, readying for battle.

Dr. Chang set his teacup down. “I too find it a valid question. However, I would like to hear more about the actual event—Toba 2, in 535, or is it 1257? Was Dr. Grey uncertain on the actual date?”

The question brought David back, made him focus. “No. I don’t think so. I believe the dates are the beginning and end of a period, marked by two specific events.”

“What period?” Janus asked.

“The dark ages in Europe.”

“And two… events?”

“Volcanos and then plagues,” David said. “One that ushered in the dark ages, another that led Europe out. There’s strong evidence that the first outbreak—in 535—was linked to a massive volcano near mount Toba in Indonesia.” He thought for a second. “You could think of it as a sort of Second Toba Catastrophe.”

“I would have heard about a Second Toba Catastrophe,” Kate said.

David smiled. Him, telling her about a volcano that changed the fate of humanity. “It’s not well known,” he said, echoing her words to him in Jakarta when she had first told him about the Toba Catastrophe Theory.

“Touché,” Kate said.

“What we know is this: in 535, temperatures around the world dropped rapidly. We’re talking about an eighteen-month-long winter—a harsh, bitter winter with very little sunlight. This is what was described in historical records. It’s actually the most severe climate event in recorded history. In China, snow fell in August. Throughout Europe, crops were lost and famine ensued.”

“A volcanic winter.”

“Yes. The historical accounts across Asia and Europe attest to it. Ice core samples confirm it, and tree-ring evidence from Scandinavia and western Europe also reveals a huge reduction in tree growth in the years 536 to 542, not recovering fully until the 550s. But it wasn’t the years-long winter that plunged humanity into darkness, it was the plague that followed—the worst pandemic in known history.”

“The Plague of Justinian,” Kate whispered. “In terms of casualty rates, it was the worst catastrophe in recorded history. But I don’t see how it could be connected to a volcanic eruption. And wait, tell me again how you know all this?”

“It might be hard for you to believe, but I was this close to a PhD. My thesis was on the origins and impact of the Dark Ages in Europe.” He stared at her for a moment, then shrugged theatrically. “I’m more than a pretty face and a skinny waist, you know.”

Kate shook her head, her face somewhere between embarrassment and disbelief. “I stand corrected. Please continue.”

“Here’s what we know: up to a third of the eastern Mediterranean’s population died in the outbreak. The Eastern Roman Empire was devastated. The capital, Constantinople, went from a city of half a million to less than a hundred thousand after the plague. They named the plague after the Roman Emperor Justinian. It’s hard to exaggerate the carnage of this plague. It was like nothing the world had ever seen. Some victims would take days to die. Others became ill and died within minutes. On the streets, bodies were simply stacked up. The smell of death was everywhere. In Constantinople, the emperor ordered the dead be buried at sea.” David’s mind flashed to Ceuta. He focused. “But there were too many of them. Dead bodies were dangerous in ancient cities. So the emperor ordered that mass graves be dug outside the city. Bodies of the dead were burned there. The historical record says that they stopped counting after three hundred thousand.”