Location: Los Angeles, California, USA

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Jerry sat in the Internet café. He’d been there all night and all morning with no word. He was tired and groggy but could not leave—dared not leave. He sipped on his fifth coffee, struggling to stay awake.

There must have been thirty people in the room, all sitting at their desks, yet he felt very alone. The shuffling bodies and smell of coffee were no longer comforting. He listened to a conversation beside him—some guy Skyping with his girlfriend in another country. Driveling on about how much he missed her. Jerry thought of David. God, no one had told David’s girlfriend. Did she even know? Had she been round to the apartment? Jesus. A man became aware of Jerry staring and tried to hide down behind the small dividing screen. Jerry blushed and turned back to his own desk. In fact, he was feeling a little hot like his skin was burning. Must be the adrenaline or the lack of sleep. He pulled off his jacket so the sleeves ended up inside out and shrugged it off over the back of his chair. That’s a little better.

He wiped the sweat from his brow and stared at the screen in front of him. The Google homepage stared back. He thought about how all of this had started with this bloody map project. And David. Poor David. He pulled the USB key from his jacket pocket. Such a small thing—what was it for? What would it show him?

His phone rang. It didn’t shock him anymore. He was numb. He fumbled around in his other pocket, struggling to pull the phone out. It popped free. Caller unknown. Jerry knew exactly who it was, or at least, he knew it was the same person who had been calling all night. He slid his finger across the unlock bar.

“Hello.”.

“Put the key into the computer.”

Jerry tried to comply, but was strangely weak.

“Have you done it?”

“Sorry, I’m trying. I just feel a little ... dizzy.” The room became a little out of focus, and Jerry could feel his stomach begin to knot up.

“You need to concentrate and follow my instructions, I’m sure the people following you will not wait forever for you to leave the café. Eventually, they will come in for you, crowded or not.”

“And then what? How will you get me out of here?”

“We will get you out, but first, you need to finish the job. Put the key into the computer.”

Jerry complied. Blinking through the sweat running down his face into his eyes, he slid the key into the USB port in the side of the monitor. A small dialogue box appeared on the screen: enter password. “Okay, it’s asking for a password.” Jerry’s breathing was labored.

“Okay, it’s a 256-bit encryption key. Not hard to crack, but we need you to type it in quickly. So type the following: 721B, E92F, 71D2, FB13, C266, C970, 5E76, D6B5, 8D17, 737F, 4524, 038C, 6E22, 7A2D9A.”

Jerry duly typed the numbers but his insides were on fire. The bile rose into his mouth.

“Have you completed it?”

“I’m sorry, I feel so hot and dizzy. What were the last digits?”

“How hot and dizzy?”

“Actually, very.”

“When was the last time you came into physical contact with another person?” The voice was cold and hard.

Jerry strained to think. He was sweating profusely. Warm liquid trickled from his nose and down his lip before splashing on the keyboard. Blood. Jerry panicked and wiped his sleeve across his face and then on the keyboard. “Shit.”

“What is it?”

“Blood! I’m bleeding from the nose. What’s wrong with me?” His voice was hushed but strained.

“It sounds like you’ve been injected with a form of viral hemorrhagic fever.”

“What!”

“Think of it as a weaponized Ebola virus. When did you last come into physical contact with another human?”

“The club, I guess the club. It was crammed in there. What will happen to me?”

“How long ago?”

“I don’t know, a few hours? What will happen to me?”

“I won’t lie to you. You’ll die, and you don’t have much time.”

Jerry whimpered. “Can you help me?”

“Perhaps, Jerry, but I need you to finish the job. Then we can try and help you.”

Jerry coughed, spraying blood across the screen and into the face of the young, blonde woman opposite him. She shrieked and reeled backward, falling from her chair, clutching her face. The entire café was suddenly deathly silent. Everyone stared at Jerry, who sat motionless, blood running down his face, the fever overwhelming him.

In slow motion, Jerry saw a nearby man lunge for him, screaming something about a gun. He collided with Jerry, dragging him to the floor. The sound of crying erupted in the room as the punters attempted to stampede out of the tiny establishment.

Jerry clawed at the nearby chair, exhausted and coughing thick red blood over his own face and that of the would-be hero. He desperately looked for his cell phone. Where was it? The man, now smattered with Jerry’s blood, panicked. Pushing Jerry off, he scrambled to his feet and fled for the exit.

He was alone now. The sound of the café alarm rang in his ears, but the place was devoid of people. Jerry stood swaying to and fro, trying to blink away his blurry vision—without much success. He caught sight of his phone under a desk and unsteadily bent down to pick it up. Resting on one knee, he put the cell to his face, smearing blood across its screen. “H ... hello?”

“Have you finished entering the key, Jerry?”

“No, no, no. I am bleeding—I’m dying. Everyone ... is gone. I can’t ...”

“You must complete the code, Jerry.”

“I didn’t ... put ... in ... the last set of digits.” His breathing was becoming more labored.

“7 ... A ... 2 ... D ... 9 ... A. Have you done it?”

Jerry stared at the keyboard and slowly typed in the command. Each press of a key was heavy and misguided.

“Okay ... done.”

“Hit return, Jerry.”

“O ... K.” The return key depressed with a clunk. Jerry wearily watched the computer screen rush into life, window after window spewing onto the screen. He could catch glimpses of information, schematics and photos flashing within each box before being covered by a hundred more windows. Whatever he had done, it was spreading—like a virus. Every computer next to him burst into life, projecting the same imagery.

“Thank you, Jerry.”

“Okay ... please ... hel—”

Click.

Jerry listened to the rapidly repeating tone signifying the call had been ended. He stood rocking backward and forward. Crimson tears streamed from his eyes, and his ears filled with the sound of the alarm and approaching police cars, muffled through rushing blood. But it did not matter. No one could help him now.

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Location: Paradise Ranch, Nevada, USA

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It was nine in the morning, and the room was already full. The others had gathered around the table and were intently listening to the professor, rambling on as always. Freya eyed the group. Chris was a funny, little, Hispanic man, she thought, like some kind of over-fed, chubby lapdog following his master around. What the hell was he wearing? Khaki shorts, jungle boots, and some sort of loud Hawaiian shirt—ugh. Then there was the stuffy British woman, or rather English woman. The snotty bitch had corrected this oh-so-offensive faux pas—Britain was three countries, and she was “distinctly English, not Scottish, Welsh or Irish.” Who cared? Stupid little island. Anyway, for all her airs and graces, she still didn’t seem to be impressing Kelly. He wasn’t falling for it. He was a man’s man. He needed a strong woman, not a prissy, whining, little girl. And did she only have one outfit—Jungle Jane? It looked exactly the same as the one she’d been wearing the entire trip. And why was she so twitchy, sitting there shifting in her seat?

Freya turned her attention to Kelly. She stared at him, analyzing his muscular build. He was wearing a relaxed, white t-shirt that just stretched at his biceps and chest, blue jeans, and work boots. He didn’t need anything else. His wavy dark hair was brushed backward but fell about his face; it was more like a neat mane than hair, she thought. A pointed grin spread over Freya’s lips.

She slid silently behind the chairs and table, gliding effortlessly until reaching the spare seat next to Kelly. Gracefully and in one motion, Freya slithered onto the plastic chair and crossed her willowy legs. The lace top of her silky black stockings peeped from beneath the thigh-length slit in her gray pencil skirt. She didn’t look at him but could feel his eyes briefly scan her.

Kelly sighed. Jesus, this girl was not at all subtle. Sure, she was beautiful. She even resembled Izel a little, but that was where the similarity ended. She had no class and no style, though she thought she had both. Shit, he’d stopped listening. What was the General saying?

“The circumstances are such that you are better off here for now, and indeed, it is logical at this juncture we explain a little further the ... political situation you now find yourself in.” The General was rambling slightly and darting glances at the professor.

“You have done enough explaining, I think!” Victoria jumped up from her chair. “You are planning something awful with this thing.” She glanced at the butt of the gun that was poking from beneath the Shadow Man’s jacket, the safety strap of the holster clearly not fastened. In a split second, she made up her mind.

Victoria grabbed the gun from the Shadow Man’s holster, then rolled her body off his chest. His tried to grab her, but was much too slow to catch her wiry person. She fell into the corridor and sprinted toward the aquarium room, brandishing the Magnum in one hand.

“No! Victoria!” Kelly leapt across the glass table, feet first, and sprinted out into the hallway. He tumbled into the wall but bounced off it and kept his stride, continuing to chase her down.

The group scrambled to their feet and followed suit, each one filing through the door as fast as they could. Even Ms. Nilsson tottered down the corridor as fast as her high heels and restrictive skirt would allow.

The doors were already open, allowing Victoria to crash into the room. She stopped dead in front of the aquarium and stared furiously into the cold, dark water. The lights were still dim, and she couldn’t see it. Where was it?

Slowly, K’in glided up to his window to the dry world. He hovered in front of the glass as if waiting for Victoria to speak. His blind gaze was fixed on her. Victoria lifted the heavy gun in both hands. It was difficult to keep the barrel straight. Her hands were shaking—not with fear but with rage. This abomination had to die. Tears streamed down her cheeks. The gun’s hammer eased backward as she squeezed the trigger.

Kelly exploded into the room behind her, followed by the rest of the group and several more armed guards. “Victoria, don’t be stupid!”

“I’m not being stupid! This, this thing—it’s not right. God would not have favored this thing over us. He loves us. It’s not what they say; they are just creating some kind of underwater army. It’s all about warfare, as always.” She didn’t look at Kelly, her words reverberating against the glass tank.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Ms. McKenzie.” The General stepped calmly next to Victoria, though not in between her and the tank.

“Watch me. You Americans are gung-ho with no regard for life. Traipsing around the world and imposing your ways on everyone! Now this! Blasphemy! Defacing our history, our souls with stories of another species greater than us ... creating a false chronology to fit your needs!” She shook with fury and indignation.

“Ms. McKenzie, what do you think the Catholic Church did for centuries? Destroying the peoples of South America? Absorbing pagan—”

“Shut up, Doc. Are you fucking kidding me?” Kelly glared at the professor before turning to his friend. “Victoria, don’t do it. Who knows if these guys are right? Huh? Not me. Not you. Hell, it’s a theory. And do you think if you take out fish-face they won’t make another? This isn’t going to achieve anything.”

Victoria paused; her pained expression eased as if his words had managed to penetrate her cloak of anger. “But ... it’s not right. If he is what they say, my life, my whole life, my family’s life was a lie.”

She raised the gun again, aimed, then pulled the trigger.