Island of the Sun (22 page)

“I think it's that way,” Eleanor said, pointing in a direction that felt right to her.

“You sure?”

“I'm sure.”

He nodded. “Well, you haven't been running around playing whack-a-mummy. Let's go for it.”

Eleanor heard a sound to her right. She whipped her flashlight around as a mummy leered out of the darkness. “Run!”

Luke took off in the direction Eleanor hoped was right. The chamber seemed more endless on the way back, nothing but pillars, and Eleanor was beginning to wonder if she had been wrong. But Luke kept running, breathing hard, and then he was just trotting along, then he was only walking under the strain of her weight. But soon she saw the dark shadow of the doorway up ahead.

From there, it was a steep climb back up through the mountain, stairway after stairway. Luke would never be able to carry her up that.

“I think I can walk now.”

“You . . . sure?” he said, panting.

“Let me try.”

He set her down gently, and she tested the weight on her legs. They didn't give out from under her, and she took a few steps. Some of the weakness had faded.
“I can do it,” she said, even though she wasn't sure.

“Okay.” Luke looked relieved and led the way, setting their pace. Eleanor's legs wobbled before they'd made it very far, and her muscles wanted to give out before they'd reached the top. The dragging, shuffling sounds of the mummies followed after them, while the almond-shaped eyes of the painted Egyptian gods stared at them from the walls.

“Here it is,” Luke finally said, out of breath and bent over, clutching his knees in front of the secret doorway. “You first, kid.”

Eleanor's legs were happy to clock out for a moment or two, and she dropped to the ground and crawled back through into the chamber of KV39. Then Luke came through, and they allowed themselves to rest for a moment, sitting on the chamber's floor.

“I think we need to block the opening,” Eleanor said.

It wasn't hard to find the rubble to do it, just exhausting to gather it from the crumbling stairs and carry it back. After a few trips, they had filled in the gap with tightly packed stones. It wouldn't take a person very long to excavate the opening, but Eleanor figured a brainless mummy would have more trouble.

They left the tomb and emerged into the cold night air, which chilled Eleanor everywhere she'd been
sweating. She took a deep breath, and she laughed. Luke looked at her in surprise for a moment, but then he started laughing too.

“Mummies,” Eleanor said. “I just . . .” She shook her head, her eyes wide, her mouth hanging open, nothing to say except “Mummies,” again.

“Come on,” Luke said. “We should get back before the others wake up and notice we're gone.”

They half walked, half stumbled back down the ravine and crossed the valley to their tent. As they approached, they turned off their flashlights and quieted their steps and other sounds, to avoid disturbing those sleeping. Luke ducked inside first. Eleanor was already halfway through the entrance when she noticed the black helicopter hunkered down in the shadows a short distance away.

“Welcome back,” a familiar voice said from inside the tent. “I am Dr. Pierce Watkins. I was beginning to fear we'd lost you.”

A
LIGHT SWITCHED ON, AND
E
LEANOR FELT A FIRM HAND
against her back pushing her the rest of the way into the tent. Her mom, Finn, Betty, and von Albrecht sat side by side on two of the cots. Two G.E.T. agents wearing paramilitary uniforms stood behind them, holstered pistols at their sides. Nathifa stood near the table where the scanners and instruments had been laid out, her mouth downturned in its usual way, her eyes sad, and Eleanor noticed the G.E.T. laptop there was running.

“Come in, please,” Watkins said, standing next to Nathifa, his hands clasped behind his back. “Sit down, won't you?”

The man behind Eleanor gave her another shove, and she stepped farther into the tent to stand with Luke. The scene before her actually felt more surreal in its way than fighting the mummies had. Eleanor's triumph at finding and shutting down the Concentrator still pulsed through her, even as she realized they had just been captured, their mission incomplete.

“Oh, sweetie, thank God,” her mom said. “Where have you—”

“I'll do the talking for now, Dr. Perry,” Watkins said.

“What you're doing is illegal,” Betty said.

“Is it? Taking saboteurs into custody?”

“Saboteurs?” Eleanor said. “Not terrorists?”

“Of course not,” Watkins said. “I know you do not intend to inflict harm on anyone, in spite of what happened to Skinner. But it seems you have made it your mission to disrupt the G.E.T.'s Preservation Protocol. So yes, I think, saboteurs.”

“What happens to us now that we're in your custody?” Luke asked.

“That is entirely up to you,” Watkins said.

“In that case,” Luke said, “I think I'll be going.”

He turned back toward the tent opening, but the man who had pushed Eleanor inside stood in the way, blocking it. He wore a uniform like the other two
guards but exuded a much greater authority. His silver hair was shorn close, and he had the muscled neck of a bull, with deeply tanned skin, and Windex-blue eyes. Luke stepped right up to him and said, “You gonna move, or what?”

“I'm afraid leaving is not one of your options,” Watkins said. “I think you'll find Mr. Hobbes here quite capable of elucidating that.”

Luke hadn't taken his eyes from the man Hobbes. “That a fact?” he said.

No part of Hobbes moved, except his lips. “That's a fact.”

“So what options do we have, then?” Eleanor's mom asked.

“That is precisely what I would like to discuss,” Watkins said. “I had just begun to explain things to your mother and friends here when you surprised us all by returning. Were you successful? Did you find the Osiris Tree?”

“Osiris Tree?” Eleanor said. “I don't know what you're talking about. We just felt like a nighttime walk.”

Watkins chuckled. “How charming you are. Yes, the Osiris Tree. So named for the legends connecting Osiris to the Egyptian Tree of Life. Did you know that nearly every culture and religion in the history of the
world has a Tree of Life myth? I believe that is due to the ancient presence of the . . . what do you call them? Ah, yes, the Concentrators, around the world.”

“It's a name that describes what they do,” Eleanor's mom said.

“True,” Watkins said. “But I prefer to think of them as the Trees of Life they are.”

“How charming you are,” Betty said.

“I ask again,” Watkins said. “Were you successful in finding it?”

“No,” Eleanor said.

“No?” Watkins frowned. “Pity. But no matter. Nathifa assures me this is the correct site, and it shall be found. As I have demonstrated, I'm very good at finding things. We will move our operation down here from the Giza Plateau, beginning tomorrow. The protesters there were becoming troublesome, at any rate.”

Eleanor's suspicions had been confirmed the moment she'd walked into the tent and seen the laptop, but Watkins had just removed all doubt. Nathifa had betrayed them. Eleanor had been right not to trust her. But von Albrecht, sitting next to her mom, looked as defiant as the rest of them did. Was it possible he wasn't a part of the deception?

“And what happens to us?” Eleanor's mom asked. “What happens to my daughter?”

“Yes, let us return to that,” Watkins said. “What happens to you? If you cooperate with our requests, you will enjoy our protection. I believe you've earned your place among the planet's elite, after all. If you refuse to comply, however, there will be a series of escalating consequences that correspond to your level of opposition.”

Escalating consequences
sounded pretty terrifying to Eleanor, especially in Watkins's refined voice.

“So what do you
request
?” Luke asked.

Watkins brought his hands up before him, almost in an attitude of prayer, fingertips touching his chin. “Quite simple. You will sign the Preservation Protocol and assist us in saving humanity.”

“But you're only saving
some
of humanity,” Eleanor said. “What about everyone else? You're just going to let most of them die?”

“I see your point,” Watkins said, nodding. “And it is fair. But let me put it another way. Imagine you are trapped on an island and have just watched some of your friends get captured by your enemy. You have a very difficult decision to make. If you stay, you will surely be captured as well—your mission a failure. On the other hand, if you escape, you might succeed, but you will be abandoning your friends, perhaps never seeing them again. What do you do?”

Eleanor narrowed her eyes. She could tell what he was doing.

“Oh, pardon me,” Watkins said. “What
did
you do?”

Eleanor looked over at Finn, who hadn't said a word since she had returned with Luke. He was staring at the ground. “That was different,” she said.

“Was it?” Watkins asked. “How?”

“They made a choice,” she said. “Dr. Powers and Julian, they knew what we were trying to do, and they came along willingly. The people of earth, though—they have no idea what you're doing. You haven't given them a choice.”

“And because it was their choice,” Watkins said, with reptilian coldness, “you left them to die?”

Eleanor swallowed. She was certain he was bluffing, trying to scare her, but either way, it was working. A sudden terror punched her in the stomach. What if he
had
killed Dr. Powers and Julian?

“Please understand,” Watkins said. “I believe you did the right thing, escaping from the Isla del Sol. I admire you for it. That was the best decision you could make under very difficult circumstances. The earth faces a similar dilemma. It is our island in space, and we must decide who will escape the fate that awaits us. All or none is not a rational approach. We can and must save
some
. And given that we cannot provide
each person with that choice, someone needs to make it for them.”

The reality of the situation was finally sinking in for Eleanor. What did it matter that she had just shut down another Concentrator? The mission was over. A failure. They had been captured anyway, which meant they had abandoned Dr. Powers and Julian for nothing, to a fate she truly didn't know.

“Did . . . did you kill them?” she whispered.

“Of course not,” Watkins said. “They are in Cairo.”

Eleanor almost let out a sob of relief, and Finn finally looked up from the floor.

“I don't take human life unnecessarily, Ms. Perry. I adore human life. The sanctity of human life is what the Preservation Protocol is built upon. I won't let anything—not a second ice age, nor a rogue planet, nor a small girl with world-saving delusions—keep me from preventing its extinction.” Dr. Watkins then turned to Eleanor's mom. “But I believe I made my point, yes? I notice Dr. Perry has been quite silent. Mr. Fournier as well. Would either of you like to voice an objection?”

“There are other ways,” Eleanor's mom said. “Other avenues to explore before we start using these things to harvest what energy the earth has left.”

“That is exactly why we need you,” Watkins said. “The best minds on the planet have already joined
together to confront this. If you have a better idea for a solution, by all means, come with me and present it.”

“Yeah,” Luke said. “You guys have been really open to that so far—”

“
Ideas
, Mr. Fournier!” Watkins shouted. “Not
actions
! You have all taken it upon yourselves to act for the entire world! Does that not strike you as the height of arrogance? Taking away the very
choice
you seem so adamant to provide? Who do you think you are to assume you know better? And I don't mean better than me or Skinner. I mean better than everyone else in the world.”

“There
was
no one else!” Eleanor said. “We were there, and we did what we knew was right. And I would do it again.”

“How do you choose?” Eleanor's mom asked.

“Choose what?” Watkins said.

“Who survives and who dies?”

“The selection process within the Preservation Protocol is still under development,” Watkins said. “Perhaps that is an area where you would like to help?”

Eleanor eyed her mother, wondering what she was doing.

“Selection process?” Luke said. “When in the history of the human race have those two words ever meant anything good?”

“Never,” Finn said.

“That is because it has always been a function of tribalism and rivalry,” Watkins said. “But in this case, the world is coming together for a greater purpose.”

Luke folded his arms. “Sounds like classic dictator- speak to me.”

“So how will you choose?” Finn asked.

“I just told you,” Watkins said. “The process is still under development, but I can assure you it will be fair and impartial to—”

“Will it be the rich people?” Finn asked. “The ones who can buy their way in?”

“Of course not,” Watkins said. “That's—”

“You want smart people, though, right?” Finn rose from the cot to his feet. “Are you going to give IQ tests?”

“That is—” Watkins had gone red. “That is not something—”

“What about criminals?” Finn asked. “You don't want them, do you? I mean—”

“Young man!” Watkins shouted. “Criminals have already demonstrated they are unfit for society, have they not?”

“Unfit?”
Eleanor said.

“Yes,” Watkins said. “Unfit.”

“That's a word with as many definitions as there are people,” Luke said.

“And that means it's not exactly impartial, is it?” Finn said. “You're deciding who fits, and who doesn't.”

Watkins stared hard at him. “I see you have your father's keen intellect. I'm impressed.”

“You think I care?” Finn said. “You think you can bring up my dad and—”

“Would you like to see him?” Watkins cocked his head to the side. “The helicopter is waiting outside. We can be in Cairo in a little over two hours.”

That shut Finn's mouth.

“I suggest we all go,” Watkins said. “This tent is far from comfortable. Some time away from the debate would do us all good, I think. We can resume talks after we've landed and eaten breakfast.”

No one argued with him, but then again, Eleanor knew that as friendly as Watkins sounded, he was leaving them with no choice. He held the end of the golden chain.

Nathifa moved to pack up the equipment, but Watkins told her to stop. “You will stay here,” he said. “Resume your search. I will send support staff as soon as we land.”

“Yes, Dr. Watkins,” Nathifa said.

Though Eleanor wasn't surprised at the woman's betrayal, it still hurt. Amaru had betrayed them to save his family. She suspected Watkins must have
some leverage over her beyond her passion for archaeology. Nathifa, like everyone else, probably had people she wanted to save. Family. Friends. With millions of people barely hanging on in refugee camps, that was an inevitability. And it would only get worse.

Hobbes and the other two armed guards marched them all from the tent and across the short distance to the helicopter. It was large enough inside to carry all of them and more, a military-style aircraft with mesh benches that pulled down from the wall. After they had all strapped in, Hobbes climbed up into the cockpit and fired up the engines. The propeller whined above them, and soon the whumping sound it made drowned out all others and felt like a sack over Eleanor's head. They lifted off the ground, and as the helicopter flew away, Eleanor caught one last glimpse of the Valley of the Kings, and the tent with a solitary figure standing in the light of the doorway.

T
he next two hours passed far too slowly. The bench Eleanor sat on dug into her hip bones at just the wrong places, and the mesh straps were unyielding. It was too loud to talk to anyone, but Eleanor didn't know what they would say anyway. She certainly didn't want to have a conversation in front of Watkins.

But the flight eventually came to an end, and it
was dawn when they finally landed on the Giza Plateau, near the pyramids.

They stunned her with the weight of their presence, and the power in their simplicity and perfection. They did evoke the pyramid-mountain under which they had found the Concentrator, and Eleanor agreed with her mom that must have been intentional on the part of the pyramids' builders. But what boldness and audacity they must have possessed—to re-create a mountain range.

“That thrill you're feeling never goes away,” Watkins said. “Come, please.”

Again, polite, but it wasn't a request, and they followed him through the G.E.T. encampment of tents they had seen earlier. Watkins led them to one of the larger ones, and inside they found a well-appointed office space, not at all like the tent they had left last night, complete with partial walls, cubicles, desks, filing cabinets, and other furniture, and beneath it all a temporary floor of rubber tiles.