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Sanjay turned toward the route that would take them deeper into the level, but Kusum grabbed his arm and stopped him. “Look,” she said, nodding in the other direction. “There is only one door.”

She was right. The hallway was about ten meters long, but there were no other doors along the sides like they’d seen elsewhere, just the one at the very end. A sign was attached to the front but it was too far away to read.

“We should check,” she said. “It will only take a moment.”

She took Sanjay’s hand and pulled him toward the door before he could respond. About halfway there, the words on the sign became legible.

DIRECTOR

NB551

“I was right,” she said as she reached for the handle.

Sanjay grabbed her wrist. “Wait.”

He stepped around her and placed his ear against the door. He could hear a few faint sounds but nothing identifiable.

He glanced back at Kusum. “Follow my lead.”

He took several deep, fast breaths and then jerked the door open and rushed inside.

A young woman sat behind a desk centered along the opposite wall. Hanging behind her was a large painting, like something from a museum. Off to the side was a smaller but nearly as prominent framed photograph of a middle-aged, well-fed Indian man. Standing to the left of the desk, in front of another doorway, were two security men, one looking no older than Sanjay.

“Stop!” the older guard said as he and his partner jerked their rifles up and aimed them at Sanjay and Kusum.

“Please,” Sanjay said, his tone panicked. “We have a message for Director Mahajan.”

“What do you mean?” the woman asked. “Who are you?”

“It is from Mr. van Assen.”

“Mr. van Assen? Why did he not bring it himself?”

“He was injured in one of the explosions,” Kusum said. “He told us to give it to the director personally.”

The woman sucked in a surprised breath.

The guards didn’t appear as moved as she was, though. The older one asked, “What section are you with?”

“Section?” Sanjay said. “We work
directly
for Mr. van Assen. We have only just arrived. He had just picked us up from our plane and brought us here when all the bombs went off.”

“IDs, now,” the guard said.

Sanjay could feel the cold metal of his gun pressing against this back and wanted to pull it out, but knew he’d be dead before it even cleared his side. He needed to stall until he had more of an advantage.

“IDs?” Kusum said before Sanjay could figure out a reply. “Are you joking? They are in our luggage, still up in the car. Or should we have stopped to grab our bags before running for cover?”

“Please, we must see Director Mahajan,” Sanjay said.

The older guard stared at them for a moment before motioning to a couple chairs along the wall. “Sit down.”

“We have no time to sit down,” Sanjay said. “Do you not know what is going on out there?” He looked at the woman again. “You need to tell the director we are here. You need to let—”

“I said sit down!” the guard ordered.

“There is no reason to treat us like—”

The guard stepped over and shoved Sanjay toward the chairs.

“Okay, okay,” Kusum said. “We will sit. Just get the director.”

They lowered themselves into the chairs, Sanjay in the one closest to the guards.

The older one touched a microphone clipped to his shoulder. “This is Buckner in the director’s office. I need to talk to somebody up top.” There was a pause as he listened. “As soon as someone has a moment, then. I’m looking for Mr. van Assen or anyone who’s seen him…okay, hurry.” He dropped his hand from his mic and looked back at Sanjay and Kusum. “Get comfortable. You’re not going anywhere near the director until we confirm your story.”

“We understand,” Kusum said. “Whatever is necessary.”

As she spoke, she moved her hand behind Sanjay and nudged him until he angled his body toward the guards. She then matched his position, her shoulder and left arm hidden behind his back.

It was all he could do to keep his expression blank as she wrapped her hand around the grip of his gun.

3

CAIRO, EGYPT

9:29 AM EET (EASTERN EUROPEAN TIME)

R
AHEEM BAHAR TRAINED
his binoculars on the main gate of the Cairo survival station.

One, two, three, four…
the seconds ticked off in his head…
seven, eight, nine—

The explosion rolled down the empty Cairo streets. Though a cloud of dust obscured Raheem’s view, he knew at the very least the gate should’ve been destroyed.

He shifted the binoculars just in time to catch the second explosion as it punched a hole fifty meters farther down the wall enclosing the facility. Number three was clear over on the other side, and four, five, six, and seven hopped back and forth around the perimeter in no discernible pattern. This was just the beginning. There were still more than two dozen timed explosions waiting their turn.

He scanned the interior of the station and smiled. Project Eden personnel were scrambling around in chaos. A check of the holding areas where the survivors were imprisoned revealed that several people were outside the huts, trying to see what was going on.

Raheem picked up his radio. “Insertion teams, status.”

“Team one moving through east wall, section A.”

“Team two inside, west wall, section Q.”

“Team three repositioning. Blast only cracked the wall at section N. Entering through alternate section M.”

Four more teams reported. Each had either made its way inside the facility or was in the process of doing so.

Raheem turned his mic on again. “Second phase, on my mark.” He waited until the next bomb went off and said, “Go.”

MADRID, SPAIN

8:29 AM CET (CENTRAL EUROPEAN TIME)

T
HE SURFACE-TO-
surface portable missile launchers had been appropriated from the American naval station at Rota. Lalo Vega had been skeptical about including them in their plans. He worried his team would not have enough time to learn how to use them correctly, and the weapons would end up being more dangerous to his people than those in Project Eden.

Steven Upton, a Brit who had transferred to Spain as part of the Resistance a year earlier, convinced Lalo to allow him and one other volunteer to at least give it a try. Lalo’s conditions were that they set up far from all the other teams and could shoot only once.

“What’s the holdup?” Lalo asked over his radio.

Steven’s strained voice came from the speaker. “This is heavier than it looks. Give us a couple seconds.”

Lalo waited, his gaze focused on the building that served as the administration headquarters for the station. As he was about to radio Steven again, there was a loud whoosh from off to the left. Lalo looked over just in time to see the rocket streak over the compound’s wall.

One moment the admin building was there, and the next it was nothing more than flames and smoke and raining debris.

“Holy shit,” someone said behind him.

“See, told you it would work,” Steven radioed. “You know, we did bring a few more. We could take out the dormitory or the lot where they’re keeping all their vehicles, or even the front entrance. Hell, we could take out all three.”

Staring at the destroyed building, Lalo said, “Do it.”

TOKYO, JAPAN

3:29 PM JST (JAPAN STANDARD TIME)

T
HE GROUND ROCKED
violently with the first explosion, and then continued to shake as more devices went off. The sensation at first reminded Midori Nagawa of an earthquake, only no earthquake she’d ever lived through had lasted as long.

Unlike the attacks at most of the other Project Eden locations, her team’s was not aimed at the walls or fences surrounding the Tokyo survival station. Rather, they had utilized the extensive network of tunnels under the city to place their explosives directly below the buildings where the bulk of the Project Eden people worked. Their hope was to inflict enough structural damage to occupy the attention of the base personnel while Midori and her people rescued the imprisoned survivors.

When the ground stopped rocking, she jumped up and yelled, “Go, go, go!”

They ran up the stairs and out into the street, guns at the ready in case they had to fight their way through the front gate. But the guards who had been there minutes before were gone.

Above the wall, a huge column of smoke and dust rose into the air, obscuring the view of anything inside the compound. Midori pushed aside the metal arm that served as the gate and led her people in. They only made it a few meters before stopping dead in their tracks.

“Dear God,” someone muttered.

Tunnels underneath two of the buildings had opened up wide enough to swallow the structures nearly whole. Other buildings had partially sunk into the ground, their walls collapsed inward, leaving behind only piles of rubble.

Here and there they could hear groans and pleas for help. Midori also spotted a handful of people crawling over the rubble, trying to assist their colleagues. Given what Project Eden had done to humanity, she couldn’t bring herself to give its members any sympathy.

As she and her team passed more damaged buildings, Midori couldn’t help but worry that their attack had been too aggressive, and that the explosions might have also harmed the prisoners. When she caught sight of the first pen, she knew she was right to be concerned.

An entire corner of the holding area had sunk a good seven meters, dragging down part of the fence. What was left at ground level looked like it was moments away from slipping into the earth.

The other holding area had received damage, too, but not nearly as much. In neither pen did she see any survivors. She divided her team into two, leading her half into the more devastated holding area.

“Hello?” she yelled after she’d crawled through a tear in the fence. “Is anyone here? Are you all right?”

The ground felt unstable under her feet, and her mind screamed that she should turn around or her next step might be her last. Ignoring the warning, she ran toward the dorm building that sat precariously close to the hole they had ripped open.

She yanked the door out of the way and raced in. “Anyone here?”

Bunk beds lined either side of a central aisle, but the room appeared deserted.

“Hello,” she yelled as she moved farther into the dormitory. “We’re here to get you out!”

A sniffle and a fearful breath from somewhere toward the back.

Midori picked up her pace, her gaze swiveling back and forth between the bunks, making sure she didn’t miss someone. She found the girl three beds from the back, pressed against the wall, terrified. In her lap sat a young boy.

“Are you okay?” Midori asked. “Are you hurt?”

The girl’s lip trembled but she said nothing.

As Midori moved toward her, the girl shied away, wrapping her arms tightly around the boy.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Midori said. “I’m here to get you out.”

“Earthquake,” the girl whispered.

“It’s over,” Midori said. “But the building’s not safe, so we have to leave.”

“I don’t want to move. If I move something bad will happen.”

“No. I promise. It won’t.” Midori held out a hand. “Come. I’ll help you.”

A few silent moments passed before the girl uncoiled an arm from around the boy and took Midori’s hand.

“What’s your name?” Midori asked as she helped the girl to her feet.

“Noriko.”

“And your friend?”

“My brother,” Noriko said.

“Your brother?” Midori smiled at the boy. “You’re very lucky to have a big sister to watch over you.”

He buried his face in his sister’s shoulder.

“His name’s Katsuro,” Noriko says.

As Midori led them to the door, she asked, “Were there any others in the holding area with you?”

Noriko nodded.

“Where are they?”

“I don’t know. Katsuro wanted to take a nap so I brought him in here. And then…the earth…”

“It’s all right. It’s over.”

Midori guided them outside, where they joined the rest of her team and twelve survivors who had been discovered hiding in the second building.

“Is this everyone?” Midori asked one of the survivors. “Just the fourteen of you locked up here?”

“There were another fifteen yesterday,” a man said. “But they passed their quarantine period and were taken to the safe zone.”

Midori cringed inside. She had heard about the false stories the survivors were told about the nonexistent safe zone. If she and her team had been able to come just a day earlier, they would have been able to save twice as many.

“We were supposed to get the vaccine today,” the man went on, worried. “Does this mean it will be delayed?”

“No,” she told him. “You’ll get it soon. But we need to take you off-site to someplace safer.”

There was only one survivor in the other holding area, a man in the early stages of Sage Flu. Midori was hopeful they’d be able to save him, but just in case, they isolated him from the other survivors as they walked through the ruins toward the gate.

With the thought of the fifteen people who’d been sent to the “safe zone” the day before fresh in her mind, Midori half wished the Project personnel they passed on the way out would give her an excuse to finish the job the explosives had started.

But either they knew to do so would be a death sentence or they no longer cared, for not one person tried to stop Midori’s team and the rescued survivors.

GUANGZHOU, CHINA

2:29 PM CST (CHINA STANDARD TIME)

T
HE TEAM IN
Guangzhou was not as well equipped as some of the other Resistance attack forces around the world. Though the team members wished it were otherwise, their goal was not to take over the survival station but to throw a scare into the personnel assigned there and add to the overall pandemonium the Resistance was trying to create.