FOURTEEN
ATHENS HAD FAILED.
Dr. Griffith stared at the blinking white light by the
door, cursing Athens, cursing Lyle Ammon, cursing
his luck. He hadn't told Athens how to get back
inside, which could only mean that the intruders had
made it past him. Ammon had left them a message or
sent them one, it didn't matter - all that mattered
was that they were coming and he had to assume that
they had the key. He'd torn down the markers weeks
ago, but perhaps they had directions, perhaps they'd
find him and...
Don't panic, no need for panic. You prepared for this,
simply move on, next plan. Division first, twofold
effect - less firepower, bait for later. . . and a chance
to see how well Alan can perform.
Griffith turned to Dr. Kinneson and spoke quickly,
keeping the instructions clear and simple, the route as
easy as possible. Griffith had already worked out the
questions they'd probably ask, though he knew there
was a chance they'd try for more information. He
gave Alan several random phrases to respond with,
then gave him the small semi-automatic pistol from
Dr. Chin's desk drawer, watching as Alan tucked it
beneath his lab coat to make sure it was hidden. The
bullet carrier was empty, but he didn't think it was
possible to tell, not if the hammer was pulled back.
He also gave Alan his key; a risk, but then the entire
scenario was a risk. With the fate of the world resting
in his hands, he'd take any chance necessary.
After Alan had gone, Griffith sat down in a chair to
wait for a reasonable amount of time, his gaze wandering
to the six stainless canisters in restless anticipation.
His plans wouldn't fail; the righteousness of
his work would see him through this invasion. If Alan
was caught out, there were still the Ma7s, there was
still Louis, there were still the syringes and his hiding
place, the airlock controls in easy reach.
Past all of that, there was still the sunrise, waiting.
Dr. Griffith smiled dreamily.
Karen could still walk, still seemed to understand
at least part of what they were saying to her, but the
few words she could manage didn't seem to relate to
anything. As they'd gone down the stairs from the
lighthouse, she'd said "hot" twice. As they'd walked
into the wide, dank tunnel at the base of the steps,
she'd said, "I don't want," an expression of fear on
her deathly pale, searching face. Rebecca was terrified
that even if they found a way to reverse the viral load,
it would be too late.
It had all happened so suddenly, so fast that she
could still hardly comprehend it. There'd been a man
waiting for them in the darkness of the lighthouse, a
trap just as David had intuited. As soon as they'd
gone in, he'd opened fire with an automatic rifle,
strafing the door from the shadows beneath the winding
metal stairs. Thanks to David's plan, it had been
over in seconds and as Steve had discovered the
access door and punched in the code, Rebecca and
John had looked over their waiting attacker, had seen
in the narrow beam of John's flashlight that the man
had been infected his paper-white skin was flaking
and creased with strange, peeling etched lines. He'd
looked somehow different than the Trisquad victims
she'd seen, less decayed, his open, staring eyes somehow
more human . . . but then David had gone to get
Karen and Rebecca's interest had been suddenly and
cruelly diverted.
It had been the walk up the hill, she'd decided.
Even though it shouldn't have made a difference, she
couldn't imagine what else might have brought on the
amplification so quickly. Somehow, the T-Virus must
have responded to the physiological changes of Karen's
increased heart rate and circulation, but as
they'd led the confused and stumbling woman into
the lighthouse, Rebecca had found that she'd stopped
caring about how; all she wanted was to get to the lab,
to try and salvage what was left of Karen Driver's
sanity.
The tunnel beneath the lighthouse seemed to lead
back toward the compound in a curving, twisting
trail, and was carved from the heavy limestone of the
cliff. Mining lights were strung along the walls, casting
strange shadows as they moved forward, silent and
grimly afraid, John and Steve half-pulling Karen
between them. Rebecca was last, again feeling a
horrible sense of deja vu as they stumbled along,
remembering the tunnels beneath the Spencer estate.
The same cold damp emanated from the stone, and
she felt the same terrible feelings of moving toward
unknown danger, exhausted and afraid of screwing
up - of not being able to prevent a disaster.
The disaster has already happened, she thought
helplessly, watching Karen struggle to keep walking.
We're losing her. In another hour, probably less, she'll
be too far gone to ever come back.
As it was, John and Steve shouldn't be touching her.
In a single, easy movement she could get at either one
of them, biting before they had a chance to let go.
Even that concept made her sick with sorrow and an
aching, heavy feeling of loss.
The tunnel veered to the left, and Rebecca realized
they had to be incredibly close to the ocean; the walls
seemed to tremble and shake from a muted thunder
beyond, and the tunnel was thick with a damp and
fishy smell. Parts of the floor seemed too smooth to
have been created by human hands, and Rebecca
wondered vaguely if the tunnel opened up ahead
somewhere, perhaps had once been flooded by the
sea...
"Bloody hell," David whispered angrily. "Shit."
Rebecca looked up. When she saw what was ahead,
she felt her last flicker of hope for Karen die.
We'll never find it in time.
The tunnel did open up, a few hundred meters
ahead of where David had stopped. It widened considerably,
in fact and was connected by five smaller
tunnels, each branching off in a slightly different
direction.
"Which way is southwest?" John asked anxiously.
Karen leaned against him, her head rolling forward.
David's voice was still angry, frustration raising his
words to an echo that bounced through the five stone
corridors, circling back to fill the cavern.
"I don't know, I thought we were already headed
southwest and yet none of these is in direct alignment,
and none head directly east, either."
They moved into the rough-hewn cavern, staring
helplessly at the smooth tunnels, each of them strung
with lights that disappeared around turns and bends.
They had obviously been carved by water, perhaps
had once been connected to the sea caves that David
had originally meant for them to find. The tunnels
weren't as wide as the one they stood in, but were
wide enough to accommodate human passage comfortably
enough, and at least three meters high. There
was no way to guess which one was used to get to the
lab - or if any of them lead to the lab, we don't even
know for certain that it's down here. . .
"If none of them goes east, then we have to pick the
one that looks the most likely to go southwest," Steve
said quietly. "Besides, east of here is water."
Karen mumbled something unintelligible, and
Rebecca stepped forward worriedly to see how she
was. Though John and Steve still steadied her, she
seemed to have no trouble standing on her own.
Rebecca touched her clammy, sweating forehead
and Karen's rolling eyes fixed on her, glassy and red,
the pupils dilated.
"Karen, how are you doing?" she asked softly.
Karen blinked slowly. "Thirsty," she whispered,
her voice bubbling and liquid sounding.
Still responsive, thank God. . .
Rebecca touched her throat lightly, feeling the
rapid, thready pulse beneath her fingers. It was definitely
quicker than before, up in the lighthouse.
Whatever the virus was doing to her, it wouldn't be
much longer before Karen's body gave out.
Rebecca turned, feeling desperate and angry, wanting
to scream for somebody to do something
and heard the pounding footsteps, echoing up
through one of the tunnels. She grabbed for her
Beretta, saw John and David do the same as Steve
held onto Karen.
Which one, where's it coming from? Griffith? Is it
Griffith?
The sound seemed to circle, coming from everywhere
at once and then Rebecca saw him, appearing
from around a comer in the passage second from the
right. A stumbling figure, a flapping, dusty lab coat
and then he saw them, and even from fifteen
meters away, Rebecca could see the stunned and
almost hysterical joy that swept across his face. The
man ran for them, his short brown hair wild and
disheveled, his eyes bright and lips trembling. He
wasn't holding any kind of weapon, though Rebecca
kept hers raised.
"Oh, thank God, thank God! You have to help me!
Dr. Thurman, he's gone mad, we have to get out of
here!"
He staggered out of the tunnel and nearly ran into
David, apparently oblivious to the pistols trained on
him as he babbled on.
"We have to go, there's a boat we can use, we have
to get out before he kills us all..."
David shot a glance back, saw that Rebecca and
John still had him covered. He tucked the Beretta into
his side holster and stepped forward, taking the man's
arm.
"Easy, calm down. Who are you, do you work
here?"
"Alan Kinneson," the man gasped. "Thurman kept
me locked up in the lab but he heard you coming and I
managed to get away. But he's crazy. You have to help
me get to the boat! There's a radio, we can call for
help!"
The lab!
"Which way is the laboratory?" David asked
quickly.
Kinneson didn't seem to hear him, too panicked by
whatever he thought Thurman might do to them.
"The radio's on the boat, we can call for help and
then get away!"
"The laboratory," David repeated. "Listen to me
did you just come from there?"
Kinneson turned and pointed to the tunnel that was
next to the one he'd come from, the one in the middle.
"The lab is that way..."
He pointed back the way he'd come. "...and the
boat's down there. These caves are like a maze."
Though he seemed to have calmed slightly as he
pointed to the tunnels, when he turned back to face
them, he looked as hysterical as he had before. He
seemed to be in his mid-thirties at first glance, but
David noticed he had deep lines etched at the comers
of his eyes and mouth and realized he had to be much
older. Whoever he was and however old he was, he
was caught in the grip of an almost mindless panic.
"The radio's on the boat, we can call for help and
then get away!"
David's thoughts raced in time with his pounding
heart. This was it, this was their chance -
- we get to the lab, make this Thurman give us the
cure and then get out of this place, before anyone else
gets hurt.
He turned to look at the others and saw the same
hopeful looks that he knew he wore, John and Steve
both nodding sharply. Rebecca didn't look as enthused.
She jerked her head back, motioning for
David to move out of Kinneson's earshot.
"Excuse us a moment," David said, forcing a
politeness that he didn't feel. Kinneson was one of the
researchers from Trent's list.
"We have to hurry!" The man babbled, but he
didn't follow as David stepped back toward the
others, the four of them leaning together to talk,
Karen resting against Steve's arm.
Rebecca's voice was hushed and worried. "David,
we can't take Karen to the lab if Griffith - if Thurman
is there; what if we have to fight?"
John nodded, shooting a glance at the wild-eyed
researcher. "And I don't think we should leave this
guy alone, he's likely to take off with our ride home."
David frowned, thinking. Steve was a better shot,
but John was stronger. If they had to force Thurman
to give them the T-Virus cure, John could probably
intimidate him more easily.
"We split up. Steve, you take Karen to the boat,
keep an eye on Kinneson. We'll go to the lab, get what
we need and then meet you there. Agreed?"
Tight nods, and then David turned, addressing
Kinneson.
"We need to get to the laboratory, but our friend
Karen isn't well. We'd like for you to take her and an
escort to the boat, and wait for us."
Kinneson's eyes seemed to blank out for just a
second, the strange, vacant look there and gone so
quickly that David wasn't even sure he'd seen it.
"We have to hurry," he said quickly, then turned
and started back down the passage he'd appeared
from, walking at a brisk pace.
David felt a sudden worry, staring at Kinneson's
rapidly receding back, his dirty lab coat floating out
behind him.
He didn't even ask who we are,...
As Steve and Karen started to enter the tunnel,
David touched Steve's arm, speaking softly. "Watch
him carefully, Steve. We'll be there as soon as we
can."
Steve nodded and moved off after the strange Dr.
Kinneson, Karen stumbling along next to him.
John and Rebecca were already standing in front of
the middle passageway, weapons still in hand. The
chamber shook as outside, a muffled thunder roared.
Without speaking, the three of them started down
the gloomy tunnel in a tired but determined jog, ready
to face the human monster behind the many tragedies
of Caliban Cove.
They turned the first corner, Karen hanging onto
his shoulder with a cold and sweating hand and the
researcher was just rounding a bend farther ahead, a
good hundred meters away. Steve caught a glimpse of
fluttering white and the heel of a black loafer, and
then he was out of sight, clattering footsteps moving
away.
Great. Lost in a goddamn sea cave labyrinth because
Dr. Strangelove has a schedule to keep...
Karen let out a low moan of soft distress and Steve
felt the cold, hard knot in his stomach clench tighter,
his fear of getting lost nothing next to fear he felt for
Karen. She was leaning on him more heavily, her feet
dragging against the dank limestone floor.
David, John, Rebecca, please hurry, please don't let
Karen get any worse...
He pulled her along as quickly as he could, concerned
about catching up to Kinneson, worried about
the others putting themselves in danger, afraid for the
desperately sick woman who clung to his side. Except
for meeting Rebecca, it had to be the worst day of his
life. He'd only been with the S.T.A.R.S. for a year and
a half, and while he'd been in threatening situations
before, they didn't come close to what he'd experienced
in the few short hours since they'd been
knocked out of the raft.
Sea monsters, zombies with guns and now Karen.
Smart, serious Karen, losing her mind, maybe turning
into one of those things. We're so close to getting out of
here and it may still be too late...
As they reached the turn in the tunnel, Steve
realized that he couldn't hear Kinneson's footsteps
anymore. He staggered around the corner, thinking
that he should call for him to wait up, not to get too
far ahead and he stopped cold, his gut plummeting to
somewhere around his knees. Kinneson stood two
meters away, holding a .25 semi-automatic, his face
and eyes as strangely blank and lifeless as a mannequin's.
He stepped forward and pressed the small
bore into Steve's stomach, hard, jerking the Beretta
out of his holster and then stepping back. The flateyed
doctor moved to one side, now holding both
weapons on them as he motioned for Steve to move in
front of him.
"Watch him carefully, Steve..."
Steve held on to Karen's side, fumbling through his
thoughts for ways to stall, to reason with Kinneson,
his body tensing to spring even as his brain screamed
at him to go along, not to get shot -
- what would happen to Karen?
"You will come to the lab," Kinneson said tonelessly,
"or I'll kill you."
It was the inflectionless voice of a computer, coming
from the blankly merciless face of a man who
suddenly didn't seem human, not at all.
"We know what you did here," Steve spat. "We
know all about your goddamn Trisquads, we know
about the T-Virus, and if you want to get out of this
without..."
"You will come to the lab or I'll kill you."
Steve felt a helpless shudder run through his body.
Kinneson's tone hadn't altered at all, his gaze as fixed
and emotionless as his voice. Steve noticed the lines
then, the deep, spidering lines that swept away from
his cold brown eyes, sat at the corners of his slack and
expressionless lips.
Oh my God...
"You will come to the lab or I'll kill you," he
repeated, and this time, he raised both weapons
holding them inches away from Karen's sagging head.
Steve knew she was dying, knew that there was a
good chance she'd lose against the virus and become
a violent, insane creature before the night was
through - but I have to protect her for as long as I can. If I
sacrificed her to save myself and there was even a
chance that she could've been cured. . .
Steve wouldn't, couldn't do it. Even if it meant his
own life.
Holding Karen tightly, he stepped ahead of the
thing and started to walk.
Enough time had passed. If the intruders had done
what they were supposed to do, they would have split
up, some of them heading mistakenly for the pen,
some accompanying the good doctor back to the lab.
If Alan had failed, he'd at least have stalled the
intruders long enough to keep them out in the open.
Either way, it was time.
Griffith tapped the control panel for the Ma7 enclosure,
thinking wistfully how much fun it would be to
see the looks on their faces. The red light flashed to
green, signifying that the gate was fully open.
No matter, he supposed. So long as they died.
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