The Atlantis Plague (The Origin Mystery 2)

In her mind, for the first time, she could grasp all the changes, see them like little glowing lights in a pile of rubble. She could pick them out now, line them up and form different patterns with different outcomes. She worked the computer, running scenarios.

The Symphony database—the collection of billions of sequenced genomes that had been collected in Orchid Districts around the world—was the last piece. It was a shame that the world had to come to the brink of annihilation for such an incredible feat to occur.

The true challenge was that Kate had to stabilize all the genetic changes—both those she and Janus had made as well as Ares’ interventions. In essence, she was creating a therapy that would synchronize everyone: the dying, the devolving, and the rapidly evolving, creating a unified, stable genome. An Atlantean-human hybrid genome.

After almost half an hour of work, the screen flashed a message.

One Target Therapy Identified.

Kate examined it. Yes, it would work.

She should have felt euphoria, pride, or even relief. This was the moment she had worked for her entire life: both Atlantean and human. She had finally created a therapy that would complete her life’s work, a genetic therapy that would save the human race and fix all the past mistakes. Yet it felt as though she had simply completed a science experiment, arrived at a conclusion she had suspected, hypothesized, anticipated her entire life. Where joy should have been there was a cold, clinical interest in the outcome. Perhaps the Atlanteans didn’t feel joy in the same way. Maybe joy was so four million years ago for them.

That would be her next task: fixing herself, getting back to who she was before. She wondered what sort of chance that experiment had.

She grabbed the sat phone. “We need to get aboveground.”

She followed David out of the ship. On the hillside, she briefly looked down at Ceuta. Dead horses and people lay across the black, charred expanse that led to the massive wall. Beyond the wall, the ground was stained red from the carnage David had unleashed. The last remnants of the plague barge floated in the water outside the harbor, slowly drifting toward the shore.

The scene… Yes, she had made the right decision, even if it meant that she was giving up the last piece of herself. She was sure of it now.

Kate plugged the sat phone into the computer and sent the results to Continuity.

When the data had uploaded, she disconnected the phone and dialed Paul Brenner.

He answered quickly, but sounded distracted, unfocused. Kate had to repeat things several times. She realized what had happened: Paul had administered Janus’s false cure there—on his own cohort. Continuity was now ground zero for the radiation from Janus’s regression therapy, and it had infected Paul. But Kate couldn’t do anything to help him. She could only hope he found her results and could remember what to do.

She ended the call. Only time would tell now.

Dorian walked into the dark cavern. “Now what?”

“Now we fight.”

“We have no ship,” Dorian said.

“True. We can’t take the fight to them, but we can bring them to us. There’s a very good reason I buried this vessel here in Antarctica, Dorian.”

CHAPTER 96

CDC

Atlanta, Georgia

Paul Brenner steadied himself against the wall. It was so hard to concentrate. Where was everyone?

The halls were empty. The offices were empty. They were hiding from him. He had to find them.

No. He had to do something else. She had sent him something. The pretty one in the movies.

A set of glass doors slid open. The screens inside blinked.

ONE RESULT

One result. Result of what? A trial. He was the head of it.

Trial for what? A cure. For the plague. He was infected. With a cure. No, that couldn’t be right. How could he be infected with a cure? Something was wrong.

He surveyed the room. Empty. Coffee cups all over the floor. Stained papers on the table and chairs.

Paul sat down and pulled a keyboard closer.

A flash of clarity seized him. One result.

He typed until his fingers ached.

The letters on the screen changed.

Transmitting new therapy to all Orchid Districts…

CHAPTER 97

You’re listening to the BBC, the voice of human triumph on this, the first day after the Atlantis Plague.

The BBC has learned that the initial reports of disorientation and brain fog associated with the cure for the Atlantis Plague were only temporary side effects of the cure.

Orchid Districts across the world now report a one hundred percent cure rate with no need for further Orchid treatments.

World leaders hailed the breakthrough, citing their historical investments in medical research and steadfast commitment to staying the course in these dark times.

In related news, sources within the intelligence community have reported that citizens of nations managed by Immari International have been ordered to evacuate coastal areas. The populations of entire regions in South Africa, Chile, and Argentina are heading into their mountainous regions with only food and water.

Dr. Phillip Morneau of the think tank Western Tomorrow had this to say:

“They’ve lost. They bet on the plague running its course, on the ruin of humanity. And we’ve come through it, like we always have. It’s fitting: they’re literally heading for the hills.”

More cautious observers have speculated that the Immari move might be part of a larger pattern, possibly the beginning of a counteroffensive.

We will update this report as details emerge.

CHAPTER 98

CDC

Atlanta, Georgia

Paul Brenner trudged through the hallways of Continuity. He felt as though he were recovering from a severe head cold. But he could think now, and he knew what he had to do. He dreaded it, dreaded the answer.

As he passed the sliding glass doors that led to the operations room, he noticed a young female analyst sitting inside, alone, staring at the screen. The tables were still arranged haphazardly and coffee cups and crumpled papers littered the scene.

Paul stepped toward the doors. When they parted, the analyst looked back at him, her eyes a mixture of surprise and hope. Or relief? It caught Paul mildly off guard.

“You can go home now,” he said.

She stood. “I know… I didn’t think I should… be alone.”

Paul nodded. “The others?”

“Must have left. Some are… still here.”

In the morgue, Paul thought, completing her sentence in his mind. He walked over and turned the large screen off. “Come on. There’s nobody at my house either.”

They walked together out of the ops room, and Paul asked her to wait outside his nephew’s room. He pushed the door open and braced himself for what he might see…