Dream Sky (15 page)

He was pretty sure she hadn’t left the room since he’d brought her there after the funeral, but he wasn’t about to ask her.

“I won’t keep you. I just have a couple of questions I was hoping you could help me with.”

“I’ll answer what I can,” she said with very little enthusiasm.

“Do you know how to reach our contacts inside Project Eden?”

Her brow furrowed. “Why?”

“If we’re going to take advantage of the disruption Matt started, we need to get as much intel from the inside as possible.”

“Of course,” she said, her nod ending with a shrug. “But I don’t know how he did it.”

“You don’t?” he said. “I can’t believe he didn’t leave some kind of instructions.”

“If he did, he didn’t leave them with me.”

“Then who would he have left them with?”

“If anyone, my guess would be Pax.”

“I’ll ask him,” he said. “One more question. Have you ever heard the initials DS before?”

Again she looked confused. “In what regards?”

“I’m not really sure.”

After a moment, she shook her head. “Nothing comes to mind.”

__________

T
HE COMMUNICATIONS ROOM
was packed when Ash reached the door. He counted nine people inside a room designed to comfortably hold less than half that number. In addition to Crystal, Leon, and Paul at the comm stations, three others appeared to be dealing with some cables that ran out the room and down the length of the hallway. Two more people were hunched over the back of Leon’s station. And presiding over the whole mess was Caleb Matthews.

The Mumbai survival station
, Ash realized. He’d almost forgotten all about it.

He squeezed inside and made his way over to Crystal’s desk. He nodded toward Caleb and asked Crystal in a low voice, “What’s the status?”

“Caleb’s trying to get things wired so he can control things in Mumbai without the people there having to do anything,” she said. “He’s running everything out to one of the communication trailers we used on the trip down from the Ranch. Been a few glitches, but I think he’s got things mostly worked out now.”

“Has anyone actually tried tapping into their equipment yet?”

“Not yet. Caleb spent a lot of time having Arjun—that’s the main guy in Mumbai right now—describe everything in the room so Caleb could figure out what he was dealing with first. Since then, they’ve been working on this wiring thing. He wants it all in place before they flip any switches.”

While it made sense, Ash would really like to know if they could actually listen in on Project Eden’s communications. Since there was nothing he could do about it, he moved on to the real reason for his visit. “I really need to talk to Pax. Can we try him again?”

“Sure,” she said. “I had a quick talk with him about an hour ago. They’re pretty busy down there, but we can try.”

As Ash pulled on the second pair of headsets, Crystal dialed the number. It took five rings before it was finally answered, but the voice did not belong to Pax.

“Hello?” a woman said.

Crystal and Ash exchanged a look.

“We’re trying to reach Rich Paxton.”

“Pax? Hold on. Let me see if I can find him.”

They heard boards creaking and a bang followed by the woman cursing to herself.

“It’s for you,” the woman said, her voice muffled.

A couple seconds later, Pax was on the line. “Yes?”

“It’s Ash. Do you have a moment?”

“A moment’s about all I got. We’re trying to get off the island.”

“I’ll make it fast.” For a second, Ash considered clearing the room, but there was so much activity going on, the only one who could probably hear him was Crystal. He put his hand over his mic and said to her, “I’m sorry. Do you mind if I—”

Already pulling off her headset, she said, “No worries.”

She popped out of her seat and moved over to one of the other stations.

Ash said into his mic, “Rachel thought you might know how to get in touch with Matt’s contacts inside Project Eden.”

Silence.

“You still there?” Ash asked.

“I’m here,” Pax said. “I assume there’s a good reason you need to know.”

“There is.”

“I don’t know the procedure myself, but I do know where to find the information. Unfortunately, you’re going to need to wait until I get back. It’s protected by a biometric lock.”

“How long will that be?”

“If everything goes right, figure I could make it to Ward Mountain by the morning.”

Ash was disappointed by the delay, but at least it wouldn’t be long. “Okay, we can make that work. Do you have time for another question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Have you ever heard the phrase Augustine dream sky before?”

His answer was quick. “Never. What does it mean?”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d tell me. It was one of the last things Matt said to me. It was important to him that I remember it.”

“Really wish I had an answer for you.”

“Don’t worry about it. What about the letters DS together? They sound familiar?”

“Did you say DS?”

“Yeah, as in maybe dream sky.”

A long pause. “Son of a bitch.”

Ash leaned forward. “What?”

“That’s something else you’ll have to wait until I get there for.”

“You know what it is?”

“I’ll get back as soon as I can. Gotta run.”

The line went dead.

13

SURVIVAL STATION, CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

FROM THE JOURNAL OF BELINDA RAMSEY

ENTRY DATE—JANUARY 6, 9:45 AM CST

Noah is still not back. Neither are the other two the guards took out with him yesterday. Last night, when dinner was rolled in, a girl asked the food people if they knew when the three men would return. The workers acted like they didn’t know what she was talking about, so she asked a guard. After glaring at her for a moment, he said something like, “It’s none of your business. Stop asking.”

As I lay in bed trying to sleep, my anger grew and grew. The fact is, we’re being treated like criminals, like we’re barely worthy of their help. But we all came here because
they
told us to. The least they can do is treat us with respect. I finally fell asleep thinking that was exactly what I was going to say when breakfast was brought in, but I didn’t have the chance.

At around 5:30 a.m., the lights suddenly came on, and several voices shouted for us to wake up. We opened our eyes to find at least a dozen guards spaced throughout the building. We were told we had five minutes to get dressed and gather outside. That might have been fine if it had been a room full of people my age, but we have several older people here—or, I guess I should say, had, but more on that in a moment—and five minutes is not enough time for them pull on their winter clothes and don their jackets. I and several others ended up helping who we could, but it was still nearly ten minutes before we were all outside.

The guards stood in two long rows in front of the gate. Between them and us were three men in parkas. I recognized one as the doctor who’d performed my medical exam, and another as one I’d seen doing the same with someone else. It was the third man, though, who stepped forward.

These weren’t his exact words, but as best as I can remember them. “Good morning. We apologized for getting you up so early, but I am sure you will excuse us when you know the reason.” He paused, looked at us, and smiled. I think he was trying to appear disarming, but it gave me a serious used-car-salesman vibe, and I instantly didn’t like him. He went on: “The time has come to start the vaccination process. We will be taking several of you out now, and more later in the day.” That certainly started a buzz in the crowd. Several people shouted that they would happily volunteer to go first. There are assholes in every group, I guess. The man in the parka responded by saying, “Everyone will get their turn. We have prepared a list, so if we call out your name, please step over to the gate.”

They called off twenty-seven names. I was not among them, but I was surprised to see that several of the people who had only arrived yesterday were. Also, they took every single person sixty or over. The logical explanation is that the elderly are always more susceptible so it would be in their best interest to be inoculated first.

Still, though I couldn’t explain it, it didn’t sit well with me.

There was someone else it bothered, too, but for an entirely different reason. A middle-aged guy, one of the people who’d tried to volunteer. He was definitely not pleased to be left off the initial list and made sure everyone knew it. The doctor tried to calm him down and tell him his turn was coming, but the guy wouldn’t give up. Finally, after a quick consultation between the three men who seemed to be calling the shots, the main guy said, “I think we can make room for one more.”

Smiling like he’d just won the lottery, the complainer quickly stepped over with the others whose names had been called. A few others in our group shouted that they wanted to go, too, but none put up enough of a fight to be included.

After they all left, those of us who remained hurried back inside to get warm. I heard whispered conversations all over the place but talked to no one. I didn’t trust my own thoughts on the matter yet.

The second shock of the morning came after the sun was finally up. I was going stir crazy lying there in my bed, so despite the cold, I headed outside. I don’t know how long it took me before I noticed—two or three circuits of the fence, at least. Usually I’ll spot a few people wandering around the other holding area, but this morning there was no one. Of course, up to now, everyone over there
did
appear to be sick, so it shouldn’t have been too surprising there’d come a time when no one would be out, except for the fact that the door to their dorm building was wide open, letting all the cold air in. I watched for several moments, thinking someone must be right inside and about to close it, but I saw no movement at all. I looked around for a nearby guard so someone could go in and close it. That’s when I saw something even more disturbing.

The gate to the other detention area was also wide open. That’s why the building door wasn’t closed. There was no one there anymore.

Where had they taken the sick? Surely they hadn’t died en masse last night.

I’m back in my bed now. I know it only gives me a false sense of security, but at the moment, that’s better than none at all.

I don’t know what’s going on, but if I had to guess, I’d say the people whose names were on the list this morning are not being vaccinated. As for the people from the other area, I don’t even want to speculate.

The only thing I hope is that when the men in the parkas return, they don’t call my name.

14

BOGOTÁ, COLOMBIA

9:59 AM CST

“B
OGOTÁ CONTROL TO
TR117.”

“TR117. Go ahead, Bogotá.”

“Status?”

“Just completed flyby of Campeche. Twenty-nine bodies sighted. Spotted a few breathers, but they were clearly infected. So that’s a confirm endgame in progress.”

“Copy, TR117. Campeche endgame in progress.”

“Are we cleared to proceed to our next destination?”

“Affirmative, TR117. Proceed to Isabella Island.”

“Copy, Bogotá. Setting course for Isabella Island. ETA approximately fifty-five minutes.

ISABELLA ISLAND

10:03 AM CST

I
T TOOK MORE
than a little coaxing to get everyone out of the restaurant and down to the dock. After all but the sick were present, Robert went up to the
Albino Mer’s
pilothouse to let Pax know.

“Ready when you are,” he said.

Pax, the sat phone in his hand, didn’t move.

Robert walked over and touched him on the shoulder. “You all right?”

He could feel Pax tense before the man looked back at him.

“Sorry,” Pax said. “Lost in thought.”

“They’re here.”

“Okay, then.” Pax set the sat phone on the counter. “Let’s do it.”

They went out onto the upper deck of the ferry and moved in front of the pilothouse so everyone could see them. As soon as the crowd realized Pax was there, several people began shouting.