The Atlantis Gene (The Origin Mystery 1)

He trapped her with his feet, digging into her back and ribs. His hand moved up her arm and finally, he wrapped both legs around her. She faced down now, and she saw them.

Men, gunfire, below — the building and the docks were filling with them. More men ran out of the buildings and began firing. Beeps above. The bottom of the building exploded, throwing shrapnel and pieces of the soldiers into the parking lot.

Ripping sounds above; they fell faster now. The man wiggled, and she felt them flying away, moving farther out over the bay.

More sounds below — motors cranking and more gunfire. They twisted around, and she saw the marina swarming to life. Rapid beeps above. A car in the parking lot winked out of existence, sending a wall of flame and smoke hundreds of feet around it, engulfing everything and everyone. The gun fire stopped.

It was quiet, peaceful now. She saw the last ray of sunlight set over the Java Sea as darkness fell. They hung there for a time, Kate didn’t know how long.

Above, she heard another rip, and they were plummeting to the black sea below. Kate felt him struggling, reaching for something. The legs around her slipped; they finally lost their grip, and she was falling faster, by herself. Seconds passed in slow motion. She rolled as she fell, saw the man floating above her, floating away from her.

She heard but didn’t feel the loud crack as the water engulfed her, pushing her down, now pulling her down. Water, cold salt water was in her mouth and her nose, and she couldn’t breathe, could only suck in water. It burned. The darkness was almost complete, just a glimmer of light at the surface where the moon kissed the sea.

She drifted now, arms at her side, eyes open, waiting.

Waiting. She fought not to breathe more water. Her mind went blank. No thought. Only cold water, all around her and burning in her lungs.

A flare, a burning stick falling down, too far away from her. And something swimming at the surface, too far away. Another flare, closer, but still too far. The creature bobbed it’s head below, swam, then came up for air. A third flare, and the figure dived below, toward her. It grabbed her and pulled her, kicking violently toward the surface. They would never reach it. She took another gulp of water, had to, needed air. It invaded her, felt like cold concrete being poured down her mouth. And it pulled at her so hard, not letting her rise, and the moon was there and then everything was so dark.

She felt the air now, the wind and the droplets of rain, heard the splashing around. The splashing went on so long, and the arm was around her, keeping her up, her head out of the water.

There was a loud sound, a huge boat, with lights. It would hit them. It was coming straight for them. She saw her rescuer wave his hands and pull her out of its path.

Another man, pulling her up, and she was on her back, and her rescuer was over her, pressing on her chest, pinching her nose, and… he kissed her. His breath was so hot; it filled her mouth and pushed into her lungs. She kissed him back, and it made her so happy. She hadn’t done that in so long. She fought to lift her arms, but she couldn’t, she tried again, and yes, she reached up, tried to hold him, his mouth to hers. He pushed her arms away, held them down. She lay there, and then it exploded — her chest. Water gushed from her mouth and nose as he rolled her over. The water kept coming in coughs and gags. Her stomach spasmed and she drew air in desperate breaths.

He held her until her breathing slowed. Every breath burned, her lungs still wouldn’t fill, every intake was shallow.

He yelled out to the other man, “Arto! Arto! Tights! Tights!” He drew a hand across his neck in a cutting motion. Nothing happened.

He got up and marched away. A second later, the lights went off and they were moving, fast. The rain whipped at her face, but she just lay there, unable to move.

He picked her up again, just as he had carried her out of the tall tower. He took her below and laid her down on a small bed in a cramped room. She tried to reach for him again, but he was gone. Then back again, then gone, as if appearing and disappearing like magic.

She heard voices. Saw him pointing at a man. “Arto, plop, plop!” He pointed again.

Then he came for her, collecting her in his strong arms and they were off the boat, on land again. They walked along a beach, toward a wrecked town, like something that had been bombed in World War II. They were inside some kind of cottage, and the lights were on. She was so tired, couldn’t stay awake a second longer. He set her down on a bed of flowers, no a floral comforter. She closed her eyes and almost went to sleep, but she felt him at her feet, pulling her wet pants off. She smiled. He reached for her shirt. He would see — the scar. His hands gripped the shirt, but she held them, struggling to hold the shirt down.

“Gate, view half dew foot try blows on.”

“No.” She shook her head and turned over.

“View half…”

She could barely hear him.

He tugged at the shirt.

“Please don’t,” she mumbled. “Please don’t…”

Then he was releasing her, the weight on the bed shifted, and he was gone.

A motor started, a small one. And warm air around her, on top of her, then she twisted and it warmed her stomach, her hair. Her whole body was warm.

CHAPTER 38

Immari Jakarta Headquarters

Jakarta, Indonesia

Cole lay face-down on his stomach, waiting. He had been waiting for almost an hour as the bomb tech fiddled with his vest. He fought not to squirm, not to lose control of his bladder, not to scream. One thought ran threw his head, over-and-over: I’ll never see my family again. He should have never taken the job, regardless of the money. They had saved almost enough — $150,000 of the $250,000 they needed to open a Jiffy Lube. With his money from two straight deployments with the Marines, they would have been fine. But he wanted to have “a little extra” saved — just in case business was light those first few years. The Immari recruiter had said, “You’re mostly there for show, to make our clients feel safe. As you requested, we’ll assign you to a low-security region, definitely not the Middle East, or even South America. Europe requires seniority. Southeast Asia has been very quiet. You’ll love the weather in Jakarta.” Now some other Immari Suit would be knocking on his wife’s door. “Ma’am, your husband was killed in an unfortunate Cadbury Cream Egg incident. Our deepest condolences. What? Oh, no ma’am, this never happens. Here are his cream egg remains.” Cole let out a harsh, almost irrational laugh. He was losing it.

“Hang in there, Cole. We’re almost in,” the bomb tech said from behind a thick curved blast shield. The man wore a bulky helmet and peered through a glass strip at the top of the blast shield. His arms jutted out through two silver accordion-type metal arm sheaths that looked like the arms from the robot on the 60’s TV show Lost in Space.