“We’re in number two,” Chloe told Ash.
Ash trudged over and climbed into the back, finding his son Brandon inside. “How you doing, buddy?”
“I can sit on the floor if you need this seat,” Brandon said, already starting to move.
“No, no. Stay. There’s plenty for all of us.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure,” Ash said, taking the seat across from his son.
Both Brandon and Josie had become ultra protective of him since the explosion that had nearly killed him. While a part of him was touched by their attention, he knew this wasn’t the way things should be. He was the parent. He should worry about them, not the other way around. But the world was a different place now, forcing his kids to grow up way too quickly.
Josie and Lily entered through the far back, taking the jump seats there, while Chloe climbed into the driver’s seat, and the doctor into the one beside her. Before Gardiner could close his door, Matt stuck his head in.
“All right there? Need anything?” Matt asked.
“All good,” Ash replied.
“You need us to stop for any reason, have the doc or Chloe radio us.”
“Sure.”
Matt patted the outside of the truck with his hand. “Safe trip, everyone.”
For the first time in over a week, Rich “Pax” Paxton could see clear sky. Given how far north the research station was, where he and his team had holed up, the sky was more twilight than the bright, sunny noon he preferred, but it was definitely clear.
They had come to the island searching for Bluebird, the headquarters of Project Eden, but had discovered it wasn’t there. Which meant Bluebird had to be on Yanok Island, the island Captain Ash and his team had gone to investigate.
Pax had no idea what had happened since then. They had been unable to reach anyone on the radio, and the storm had damaged the facilities’ satellite equipment, knocking out phone and Internet services.
The door to the observation room opened and Brian Darnell—Dr. Brian Darnell, as the man was fond of reminding Pax — entered. Darnell was the station’s director, and would have undoubtedly put Pax and his team in a holding cell when they’d shown up at his door if the place had had one.
For the first two days, Pax’s explanation for why they were there was greeted with skepticism at best. He didn’t let up, however, and told them over and over about the plot by Project Eden, what was really in the shipping containers that had been spread around the world, and what would happen if the attempted genocide wasn’t stopped.
Yes, Darnell and the other researchers at the facility had heard about the containers, but the man wouldn’t even consider that they could be part of something so heinous, and had not believed a word of Pax’s story. So, with little choice, the two groups had settled into an uneasy coexistence while the storm continued to rage outside.
“Mr. Paxton,” Darnell said.
“Doctor.”
“I wanted to inform you that I sent my technicians out a little while ago to repair the satellite damage. I’m told that communications should be back up at any time.”
“Glad to hear it,” Pax said. He was desperate to find out if Ash had been able to stop Project Eden from implementing its horrifying plan.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t be. Just so you know, my first call will be to the police. I’m confident the RCMP will send officers here to arrest you and take you in for questioning.”
“If the Mounties are still around and want to arrest us, we’ll be happy to go.”
Darnell stared at him for several seconds. “Still sticking to your ridiculous story, I see.”
Pax shrugged.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to do, or why you are really here, but—”
The walkie-talkie clipped to Darnell’s belt chirped.
“Dr. Darnell to the communications room. Dr. Darnell to the communications room.”
He detached the radio and pushed the talk button. “On my way.” To Pax, he said, “I guess it’s time.”
“Mind if I join you?”
“I insist.”
The station was a series of mobile home-sized structures, some positioned right next to each other, some set a little farther apart and connected to the others via fully enclosed and insulated passageways. The communications room was located in one such solo building at the south end of the base near a hill. The rise did double duty, playing home to the radio antennas near the summit, and providing shelter from the winds for the satellite dishes at its base — something it failed to do during the storm.
Two people, both station personnel, were in the room when Darnell and Pax arrived.
“So, are we up?” Darnell asked.
Frances Bourgeois, the head communications officer, glanced over from a desk covered with computer equipment and monitors. “Syncing with the satellite now. Give me a moment.” She typed something on her keyboard before studying one of the monitors and then nodding. “There we go. Connection’s strong. We’re up and running.”
Darnell made a point of looking at Pax as he said, “Excellent.” He walked over to Frances’s desk and picked up the headset sitting there. “We should check in first. Call the university.”
Frances typed again. When she finished, Darnell stood at near attention as he focused on the call. After several seconds, he looked confused.
“All I’m getting is ringing,” he said. “Are you sure you dialed that correctly?”
Frances checked the number. “I did, but I can try again.”
“Do it.”
His bewilderment only deepened the second time.
“It is New Year’s Eve,” James Faber, the other person present, said.
Darnell considered this for a second. “Of course.” Looking back at Frances, he said, “Put me through to the RCMP in Ottawa.”
This time as he listened, he looked stunned.
“What is it?” Frances asked.
Darnell licked his lips nervously as he shot a quick glance at Pax. “Put it on speaker,” he said.
A second later, a voice streamed out of the speakers next to the monitor. “—home, and until services are restored, avoid all contact.” The voice was female, her message clearly recorded. “Good luck, and may God be with you.”
“What the hell is she talking about?” Faber asked.
Darnell held up a hand, silencing him.
There was a moment of dead air before the woman began speaking again. “You have reached the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Due to the Sage Flu crisis, there is no one able to take your call. If you are ill, remain where you are. Do not attempt to go to the hospital or any other medical facility. All facilities are currently closed to any new patients. You would do best to remain in bed, drink as much fluid as possible, and…”—she paused—“…pray. If you are unaffected at this time, stay in your home, and until services are restored, avoid all contact. Good luck, and may God be with you.”
Pax closed his eyes, his chin falling to his chest. Captain Ash had failed. They had all failed. The very thing the Resistance had been formed to prevent had happened.
The woman’s voice filled the room again. “You have reached the Royal—”
“That’s enough,” Darnell said.
Frances touched her keyboard and plunged the room into silence.
“You have Internet access now?” Pax asked her.
“We should.”
As she started to type, Pax, Darnell, and Faber crowded around behind her. The first few websites she tried kicked back the message: