“Oh god,” he said, choking on his own words. “My thumb, my god, my hand!”
“Stay still,” Samantha said, and produced a one-shot syringe from another pocket of her suit. He was weak; it wasn’t hard to hold him down while she injected a strong painkiller at the base of his neck. “It’ll take a few minutes, just be patient.”
As his struggles abated, as his breath slowed, she loosened her grip and looked at Ryan standing above them. There was horror in his eyes.
“How the hell are we going to tell him about Andrew?” he said. Samantha wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or himself. Either way, she knew, he sounded absolutely desolate. How the hell are we going to explain this, she thought.
Samantha stroked the older man’s cheek, tried to bring him back to a semi-conscious state. She knew it was possible; it was why she had chosen to give him that particular medication. “Hayden,” she said gently. “Hayden, can you walk?”
“I think so,” he said, groggy and uncoordinated. He tried to stand and found himself falling again; Sam bent forward to support him. Ryan offered a hand and pulled him up, steadied him.
“C’mon,” Ryan said, sounding uncharacteristically gruff. “You’ve got to move or you’ll freeze.” He glanced at Sam as Hayden swayed in place, fighting to stabilize. “We’ve got to get back to the others.”
Hayden could barely hold his body upright. He had only the vaguest idea of what had happened just minutes before. And they had walked less than ten feet when he pulled up short and turned back, searching the ice, looking for something. “Wait a minute,” he said. “Where’s the Spector? Are you-”
“It’s all right, Hayden,” Sam soothed, trying to keep her voice steady. She knew what he was going to ask next, and she didn’t want to deal with it. “We have to go. Let’s go.”
“Where is Andrew?” Hayden asked weakly, still disoriented. “Is he with them, the ones who, who took the, the…?” He couldn’t seem to find the words, but there was fear and confusion in his eyes.
“No,” Ryan said. “He’s not with the others.”
“No? Then what-what are you saying?” An ounce of the old impatience had leaked back into his tone.
“He’s dead,” Ryan said somberly.
It took a few seconds before the words registered in Hayden’s brain. “What?” he said. “What? What are you saying?” He couldn’t believe his ears. “He’s dead?”
He pushed Ryan’s hand away with a violent sweep of his good arm, then spun around and staggered past Samantha, back toward where the Spector had disappeared. He had taken less than ten steps when his hands went to his head. Samantha and Ryan watched in solemn despair as Hayden fell to the ground.
He touched the icy floor beneath his feet and then pounded the ice with his fist, feeling a shocking pain that seemed all too insignificant. “Why, why?”
Ryan went to him and tried to help him to his feet. “Please, Hayden,” he pleaded. “We’ve got to get the hell out of here. We’ve got to get the others in the encampment and decide what to do next.” He paused for a moment to make sure he wasn’t out of line. “There’s nothing you can do for him now,” he whispered.
Hayden simply shook his head. Then he pulled himself to his feet without help. “I know,” he said gruffly. “I understand.” He turned back one last time to look at the slight depression in the icy floor that had engulfed his life’s work and his student.
“Let’s go,” he said.
* * *
Two miles below Dragger Pass, the eight fissure drones dispatched by Central Command swarmed up the wall of the crevasse, clanking as they armed their canisters of lethal gas and their array of projectile weapons. They moved swiftly up one of the main air shafts toward Tunnel 3. It was a climb of almost four thousand feet, but that was no issue: the drones, each the size of a football, could navigate almost any terrain. They were capable of climbing walls by embedding themselves into the ice. And they were fast, able to achieve the equivalent of twenty miles an hour for extended periods of time.
The drones were controlled by a specialized team at Central Command. They were like tentacles for Vector5, able to reach virtually any obscure location throughout the continent.
Their target was simple and-now that they had located it-painfully obvious. They were coming for the five remaining scientists still left at the encampment, where they had packed their gear believing they were finally about to escape.
* * *
Simon found himself staring at the back of Nastasia’s neck. They were descending at an alarming speed, moving toward a destination he couldn’t even imagine. And still, he was haunted by the symbol he had glimpsed etched into her skin, hidden by the fall of her obsidian hair.
I need to see the insignia again, he told himself.
The AI voice-the same as in the other elevator, though they couldn’t know that-recited the depth to him in a dry, emotionless recitation. Max listened with only half an ear, clenching the ray gun in his left hand and toying with the virtual console in front of him with the other, fingers hovering, almost twitching. He had the awful feeling that they were going to have to get out of the DITV, leave it behind, if they hoped to live through this last adventure. And he knew it was going to happen fast.
Simon forced himself out of his trance, but he couldn’t help looking at Nastasia one more time. He wondered if he should just snatch the thermal mask from her face and pull her hair back so he could see the tattoo again. It would only take a moment-
“We have to be ready to move the minute we hit the bottom,” Max said. “No hesitation.”
Simon was jerked back to the reality of the situation. “Why?” he asked, confused.
“I don’t want to be a sitting duck,” Max said. “I would rather leave the vehicle inside.”
Simon nodded. “I agree. I don’t want to be trapped inside this thing either, not knowing what’s going to be on the other side.”
“Look around for any weapons and possibly one of these special Ops suits,” Max said keeping his focus on the depth gauge that registered how close they were to reaching the base.
Simon didn’t hesitate. He started searching all the storage containers inside the vehicle. Nastasia helped as they opened each possible hatch that had a latch or handle.
“Found one,” Simon said, unfolding it and visually measuring it for size.
“Hurry up,” Max commanded.
Nastasia continued searching the interior of the DITV frantically, looking for weapons or armor, but there was nothing-nothing. Reality set in, and she felt a chill. Any soldier, any guard could take her instantly; her mission could be jeopardized. But there was nothing she could do about it now.
“I’m suited up,” said Simon. “Even the damn boots fit.”
“Come on,” Max said as he shut down the DITV for the last time. They left the vehicle together, exiting the rear hatch to the base of the elevator. There was little room to maneuver around the massive DITV, but out was better than in-it would provide for some cover as soon as the elevator doors opened.
Moments later, the elevator slowed. The AI voice said, “Approaching 10,022 feet,” as the entire shaft started to vibrate. All three could clearly feel the motion on the perforated floor beneath them.
Simon pulled down the mask of the Vector5 Black Ops suit that he’d taken from the dead pilot. Max did the same as the elevator slowed to a halt. “Hatch doors opening, please prepare to exit,” said the AI unit. Simon looked over at the display one more time, remembering the exact coordinates that Leon had written on that piece of paper in Malta, so long ago. Nastasia stood behind them in terror of being discovered.
The massive hatch doors hissed open and blew a draft of freezing air into the elevator chamber. The space beyond the elevator doors was pitch black. Simon’s eyes focused straight through the lenses of the Vector5 mask, peering into the dark tunnel ahead. The voice of the AI module startled them as it spoke: “You have reached your destination at ground zero. Please exit.”