Protocol 7 (55 page)

Less than twenty seconds later, Max turned toward the left and into Oliver’s cell. Simon followed close behind. It took them less than three seconds to realize what had happened in the dark room.

Simon noticed instantly that something was wrong. He looked closer at his father’s silhouette; it took him a moment to identify the odd shape that seemed to be growing from his chest.

It was a dagger, buried to the hilt. And less than six feet away, Nastasia stood at the foot of the bed, half buried in shadow.

Simon lunged forward toward his father.

Simultaneously Max shouted, “What the fuck?” and pulled up his rifle. He stalked across the room toward her motionless figure, the gun shaking against his shoulder as he held the muzzle less than five inches from her head.

She sank to her knees without a word.

“Father!” Simon screamed. It felt as if someone had taken his own life. “Father! Father!”

And Oliver moved—just a fraction, ever so slightly, but he moved.

Relief flooded through him. “He’s still alive!” Simon shouted. “Max! Help me!”

Max was frozen in disbelief fighting the urge to put a bullet in the woman’s head with all of his strength. I should have known, he told himself.

Nastasia did not move. She sat stone cold as if in a trance, her head tilted down and her hands in her lap. She looked like a woman who had been possessed by a great evil, who now prayed silently, desperately for atonement.

Simon felt cold. He felt like throwing up. He shook with anger and shock simultaneously. It was impossible; it was horrific. He could not fathom what he was seeing.

“Why?” he screamed. “WHY?!” He went for Max’s rifle, ready to take her life. He felt dread and hatred like he never knew existed.

And his father stopped him.

“No, Simon,” Oliver said. He was so weak he could barely form the words. He coughed violently; it was almost too dark to see the blood gushing from his mouth.

Simon stopped himself. He turned back, knelt at his father’s side and reached for the dagger.

Max stopped him.

“Leave it,” he said. “He’ll bleed less.”

An uncontrollable emotion took hold of Simon as he looked back at Nastasia again.

“Why?” he begged for an answer.

“She had no choice,” Oliver told him. “It was destined.”

“Simon, Nika belongs to a secret society of which I have been a member of my entire life. This was the reason that I disappeared when you were a child. I came here for a reason: to ensure that nothing would stop the devices from melting the ice cap. To ensure that the angels who created us could complete their mission. But I’ve since realized how foolish I’ve been, Simon. Somebody had to stop this, and I realized you were the only one that I could trust. I betrayed the society when I contacted you. I broke the code, and she was instructed to take my life,” Oliver said. It was getting harder and harder for him to speak.

Simon turned back to his father. The dying man’s voice was barely a whisper. “You must find him,” he said.

“Who? Father, speak to me, who?” Simon begged.

“You must find Leon.” With every ounce of energy he had left, he continued. “Leon has the key. He is the only one that can guide you to the location of the ancient tablets that will describe how you can turn off the devices that line the bottom of the ice.”

Nastasia’s eyes shut in utter shock that Oliver had given away the greatest secret ever kept.

“But…” Simon was speechless.

Oliver clutched his son’s arm. With the strength of a child, he shook as he pulled his son close. He coughed once more, forcing himself to stop as he spoke his last words.

“You must escape. The Raptor can only take one passenger. You must get to the surface immediately, and get to Europe as quickly as you can. Find L…”

Simon’s eyes closed in pain. He barely made out Oliver’s last words. “Forg…v…m…”

Oliver died a few seconds later, and Simon screamed.

The sound of his anguish penetrated the hallway and traveled a thousand feet across to Blackburn’s ears.

Blackburn was barely conscious. The explosion had nearly taken him.

I have to get to the Raptor, he told himself. It’s all that’s left.

Back in the cell, the two best friends locked eyes. Max’s rifle was still pointed at Nastasia’s head.

“Get out of here!” said Max.

“I’m not leaving you. Kill the bitch and let’s go,” said Simon.

“You heard Oliver. There’s only room for one. You heard your father’s words. It’s on your shoulders Simon.”

Simon repeated his father’s words in his head: You must escape. Leave everything. But he couldn’t move—he couldn’t make himself. He stood silent and frozen.

“Go,” Max said with new urgency. “I’ll deal with her.”

Simon shook his head. He did not want to.

“Go, I said!” Max repeated. “I’ll find the others and we will get out of this hell! You’ve got to get to the surface!”

Simon clenched his teeth and realized in that brief moment that if Oliver’s words were true, he had no choice. He had lost his father but did not want to lose his best friend.

“It is our only chance,” said Max still shaking from anger. “UNED will spot you instantly, and they will rescue the rest of us and put an end to this godforsaken operation. GO!”

He did not have the strength to look at Max. For a second, his eyes locked on the space between them on the floor. Then he turned and disappeared.

* * *

Simon felt his breath thundering in his chest as he ran forward toward the Raptor. It was black as death. He had lost too much blood. With each step, he moved farther from his best friend, his dead father, and the woman who had killed him.

But he knew he had to fulfill his father’s final wish. Even if he didn’t believe or understand it.

The dark hallways disappeared behind him as he finally passed the octagonal room. The whole journey felt like a dream.

He was alone in the world. Now he knew his father was dead. His mind wandered as he moved, asking himself with each stride if he should stop and turn back, simply accept death as it approached. But something pushed him forward—something greater than himself.

“I forgive you, Father,” he said between gasps.

In front of him, the Great Room narrowed into the escape hatch. He could remember that even through the dimly lit environment. Then suddenly, the sound that he heard reverberated through his body.

He felt as if he was running toward the thrusters of a jet airplane. The room ahead of him exploded in a flash of blue light, nearly blinding him. Instantly, he realized what was happening.

The Raptor! he told himself as he stumbled forward. Someone’s in the Raptor.

The form of the awesome ice vehicle appeared in front of him. It almost looked alive, like some mythical, mechanical beast waiting to explode through its massive hatch—a hatch that was rolling open, even as he approached.

The ground rumbled below his feet as the force of the thrusters vibrated the entire room. He had to move quickly, he knew it was his only chance.

Fifteen…ten…five feet. And suddenly, he was under the vehicle frantically trying to locate a way to climb up. The violent roar of the thrusters shook his body unlike anything he had ever felt. Suddenly the front lights turned on, illuminating almost one thousand feet ahead of the vehicle. Simon caught a quick glimpse of the special tunnel. It looked like a luge, illuminated all around from the bright lights of the Ice Raptor.

Less than two seconds later, he located the step mechanism and pulled his body up toward the cockpit. It had not closed yet.

But inside the cockpit, Blackburn was about to connect his last latch on the safety belts. He looked away, down toward the console at exactly the wrong moment—

Simon hit him. Hard. His fist broke the man’s specialized helmet and dislodged a piece of it, driving it into Blackburn’s jaw.

Simon was on him before Blackburn could even scream, filled to bursting with vengeance, unimpeded by remorse. He pulled Blackburn’s massive frame out of the Raptor as if he was possessed by strength far greater than his body could generate, and both men fell to the floor almost eight feet below.

Blackburn grunted as he hit the ice and groped for his pistol, but Simon was on him too quickly, too strongly. He struck out and slammed his fist onto the left side of Simon’s face, cutting his mouth open from the inside, sliced raw by his teeth.

Simon had felt that familiar pain before many times. It didn’t matter one bit. He immediately struck back, jamming his elbow against Blackburn’s throat like an ultimate fighter, focused on killing his opponent.

He didn’t care. He had no reason not to take this man’s life. Nothing would stop him from his father’s last request.

He was too angry, too focused. He didn’t notice that Blackburn had his hand on his pistol again—and the instant he had his hand on it, he lashed out and struck Simon on the temple with a resounding crack, throwing him to the floor.

Simon fell, nearly unconscious. Blackburn stood up like a dark aberration, towering above Simon’s head.

* * *

Nika focused her eyes on the perforated floor. Her head had not lifted since Simon had left the room. Filled with sadness, she waited for the bullet from Max’s gun to take her life.

He clenched the pistol so tightly in his right hand that it shook the barrel less than an inch from Nika’s neck. He couldn’t focus his anger to formulate what he was about to say.

“Why?” He asked.

She did not speak.

“Is it true what Oliver said?” he asked her, pressing firmly against the trigger with his index finger.

She nodded.

He fought the will to just shoot her. It was too easy. Too painless. How could she have done this, he thought to himself.

Then suddenly she spoke. “Max, Oliver was right. I had no choice. But I am prepared to die, so pull the trigger.”

Clenching his teeth, he asked, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

It was getting harder and harder to fight the urge to not take her life. “You mean to tell me you didn’t have a choice but to take someone’s life?”

“I can find Leon, Max. I know where he is. Simon will never find him. He belongs to my society.”

“What society? What the fuck is going on?” Max said, wondering if she was trying to manipulate him again.

Then Nika began to explain. She told him everything. She explained how she knew Oliver, how she had known Simon all her life, but had only watched him from a distance. She was never allowed to meet him. She explained the reason why Oliver had to come to Antarctica, and why he had betrayed his own society. She spoke about the extraterrestrial devices less than a few hundred feet below them. She only looked up once, and noticed Max had just sat down and eased up on the pistol. His expression was of complete disbelief and shock at what had just been revealed to him.

“So what will happen now?” He asked in a somber tone.

“I can find him, Max. I know where Leon will hide. If you let me live, I promise I will find him.”

He sat speechless for a long moment staring at Oliver’s dead body.

He had a choice to make, and he had to make it now. What if she finds and kills Simon? What if all of this is a lie, he asked himself. He had to trust his gut, as he always did, and it told him that it made sense as ridiculous as all of it sounded.

“Go. Get the fuck out of my sight before I change my mind.”

Nika didn’t hesitate. She pulled herself up quickly, whispering, “Thank you.”

Max’s eyes did not move. “I’ll find you. Trust me. If you find a way to escape this hell, you need to deliver on your promise. If you don’t, I will still find you. But for now—now you’re on your own,” he said.

She glanced at him for a split second and then disappeared into the hallway that led toward the direction that Simon had just escaped. Max continued staring at the only father he knew. What Nika had told him resonated through his mind. What the hell will we do now? he thought to himself. I know if Simon reaches the surface, we will leave this hell. Just get up there you bastard.

* * *

Simon’s vision was fading. He had lost too much blood. With his face stuck to the icy floor, he barely saw the figure of Blackburn standing over him. He heard the words as if they emerged from a shadow—cold, unfeeling.

“You pathetic son of a bitch,” Blackburn said. “You thought this was about your father. You have no fucking clue how big this is. You have no idea what you have done, and now you are going to pay for it.”

Simon kept his eyes open, barely long enough to recognize the figure that stood behind Blackburn in the distance.

Blackburn’s finger curled around the pistol’s trigger—

—and two bullets hit him from behind. He still stood erect, still alive, for one long impossible moment, then fell like a statue on top of Simon. His hand convulsed as he fell and the pistol fired. The bullet slashed through the air less than three inches from Simon’s head.

Even though he was nearly unconscious himself, Simon recognized the figure that had killed Blackburn. He felt shock, confusion, awe, as he peered through the pain at Nika, standing a hundred feet away.

I’m next, he thought.

He had no more strength to fight. But somehow he managed to pull himself to his feet and confront her, face her, look straight at her as she turned to him.

He was ready to take the bullet.

She did not flinch. She held her aim for a long, long moment, and then lowered her rifle and waited for Simon to enter the Raptor.

He stared at her. He thought his life would be taken. But apparently in that moment, Nika had decided not to kill him.

He climbed the stairs more slowly than ever and entered the cockpit. As he passed through the hatch, he looked back once more at Nika’s cold blue eyes. They locked with his, one last time.

He pulled his body into the menacing machine and started to buckle himself in. As the last latch on the safety belts engaged, the cockpit hatch began to hiss, automatically pressurizing the cockpit. His seat automatically reclined, putting him into a lying position with his legs forward.