Sean Ellis - Callsign - King

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Sara tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t take shape, so she simply nodded.

Fulbright took a few more breaths. “Okay, that was close.” He gazed at her thoughtfully. “Did you get anything useful?”

Sara instinctively felt for the waterproof bag with the flash-drive. It was still there, slung over her shoulder. But the mere fact of its presence was no cause for rejoicing. She turned to Fulbright. “I managed to download their research reports,” she said, at length. “I know what they were trying to do, but without a sample of the virus they were working with, the information isn’t much good.”

A noise like the rushing of river rapids made further comment impossible. She craned her head around in time to see the bow of the research vessel, its lower hull shot full of holes from the detonation of Manifold’s self-destruct device-the source of the thump she had heard a moment before-abruptly tilt upward and then slide beneath the surface. The otherwise placid sea roiled with whirlpools of cavitation, but in a matter of seconds, all trace of the research vessel was gone. Three other lifeboats bobbed in the water nearby, but in the darkness it was impossible to tell how many of the commandos had made it off.

Sara sagged back against the vulcanized rubber gunwale, overcome by fatigue as the adrenaline drained from her bloodstream. Several minutes passed before it occurred to her to feel a sense of relief at having survived the ordeal.

Finally, she sat up and elaborated. “That ape skull was from an Australopithecine female.”

“Australia?”

Sara shook her head. “Australopithecus was one of the primate species that eventually evolved into Homo sapiens. It’s one of the fabled ‘missing links’ between apes and humans. The skull contained a retrovirus, which Manifold believed was responsible for the mutation that gave rise to human consciousness.”

“I don’t understand. A virus is responsible for turning apes into humans?”

“It’s more complicated than that, but essentially, yes. Viruses are just strands of genetic material that use our cells to replicate themselves. Certain viruses-retroviruses-actually alter the DNA of the cells that they invade. That’s the basis for gene therapy. It’s theoretically possible to introduce a virus that would rewrite a person’s entire genome. As new cells are created by mitosis, they would all carry the new DNA, and over time, every cell in a person’s body would be produced with the new code. That’s the theory, but in practice, it’s almost impossible. There are just too many cells in the body, and the natural response of the immune system would either fight the virus or kill the host.

“Manifold postulated that such a virus was responsible for adding the section of the genetic code that triggered self-awareness. From what I could gather, their working hypothesis was that an early hominid was exposed to the virus in utero, when the cells were still undifferentiated. That allowed for the mutation to completely alter the embryo’s DNA without triggering an immune response. When the child was born, the mutation would have enabled it to make to quantum leap to a rudimentary form of human consciousness, which it in turn passed on to its offspring. The section of the genetic code supplied by that retrovirus is in every human alive today. It seems that skull belonged to our common great-many times over-grandmother.”

Fulbright’s forehead creased with a frown. “If the virus is what evolved us into humans, how would it be a danger today? How could they use it as a weapon?”

Sara bit her lip thoughtfully. “I think they were trying to figure out a way to switch off that gene. Maybe by a secondary exposure to the virus.”

“Switch it off? That would…what? Turn us all into mindless apes?”

She nodded grimly. “I think that was the general idea.”

Fulbright let out a low whistle. “Can they do it? More importantly, is there a way to develop a vaccine to keep that from happening?”

“They would have had to do the genetic sequencing off-site, using a Cray supercomputer. So even though this lab was destroyed, we have to assume that they have the genome for the virus, and maybe even a viable sample that they can culture. To develop a vaccine, we would also need a sample of the original virus.”

“And where are we going to get that?”

“From the source.” She tapped the bag with the flash-drive. “We need to go where Felice Carter found that skull. We need to get there now. ”

The Elephant Graveyard, Afar District, Ethiopia

King eased his finger off the trigger and glanced at Felice from the corner of his eye. He couldn’t tell whether she was telling him not to shoot, or screaming at the zombie-like figures shambling toward them. Regardless of her intent, both happened; he checked his fire and the zombies froze in place. He kept the MP5 trained on the nearest one a few moments longer, but none of them so much as blinked.

It was actually kind of creepy.

“What just happened?” he asked, without turning to look at Felice.

He realized that she was sobbing. “I did this. To them. I made them that way.”

His first impulse was to console her with words of denial, but he knew such claims would offer little comfort. She knew what had happened; somehow, she just knew, and if she believed that she was somehow responsible for turning the others into cannibalistic beasts, that was something he could ill-afford to dismiss. “Felice, honey, whatever has happened, we can talk it about it later. Right now, what do you say we just move very slowly back outside?”

She let out another wet sob then sniffed loudly. “No. It’s all right. They’ll do whatever I tell them.”

“O-kay,” King answered slowly. “But if it’s all the same to you, I think I’d prefer to discuss this somewhere else.”

Felice got to her feet, ignoring King’s extended helping hand, and walked toward one of the men. She stopped directly in front of him, and then reached out and placed her hand on his cheek. The man didn’t react at all. “This is Bill Craig. He was a zoologist. He also liked to write science-fiction stories.”

She lowered her hand and moved to another of the motionless figures. “This is Wayne Skiver. He was the lead geneticist. He was also planning to open his own restaurant someday.”

King noticed her conspicuous use of the past tense. “Felice. This wasn’t your fault. Let’s get out of here.”

“It was my fault. I found it. I unleashed it.” She filled the words with such anger that King felt a chill shoot down his back.

“What did you find?”

“A ghost. An evil spirit. The Old Mother. She drove these elephants into the cave four hundred thousand years ago. And when I found her, she destroyed their minds, took control of my friends; Bill, Wayne…all of them.” She turned back to him. “I know you won’t believe me, but I can feel her in me.”

King strode cautiously over to stand in front of her, just as she had done with her co-workers. He took her hand in his. “Felice, I don’t know if I believe in ghosts, but I’m sure we can find some way to deal with this. Let me help you.”

This time she complied, but the look she gave him was one of resignation, not gratitude. King didn’t really care, as long as it got her moving. They moved away from the shrine and down the path through the bones. The seven zombies remained still as statues behind them.

He had hoped that her distress would ease once away from the shrine, but it was not to be. “Did you see the bodies?” she asked as they negotiated the tunnel back to the surface. “They turned into cannibals. My fault. All my fault.”