James Rollins - Altar Of Eden

After that… it would end.

“Let’s go,” Jack said.

They hadn’t taken more than a couple of steps when a rattling roar rose from the other island. Jack rushed forward to a break in the hillside forest. Through the branches, he got his first view of the villa on the other island.

From a concrete bunker atop it, the black snout of a massive gun smoked and chattered. But it wasn’t aimed toward them. It fired toward the cove, still hidden out of sight behind the shoulder of the other island.

But he could guess the target of that savage barrage.

The Thibodeauxs’ boat.

Duncan stood before the arc of windows in the security nest. Overhead, the gun battery blasted away from its bunker. The chugging roar of the chain-fed autocannon rattled the bulletproof windows. Down below, rounds chewed across the water toward the smoking boat in the cove.

At the first sign of trouble, the fishing charter had opened throttle and shot toward the beach. Its bow lifted high, pushed out of the water by some powerful engines, more than expected from an ordinary fishing boat. This observation was further supported when the first rounds of the cannon pinged harmlessly off the sides of the boat.

The craft’s hull had to be reinforced with armor plating. Gunrunners and smugglers often disguised assault craft as ordinary fishing boats. The villa’s cannon could pierce light armor, even bring down slow-flying aircraft, but distance and angle fought against them.

Then something strange happened.

From the stern end of the fishing charter, a Zodiac raft dropped into the water. It shot away like a black rocket, riding two pontoons.

The Bushmaster cannon found its main target again and rattled the bow of the fishing boat. The armored craft heaved to the side, skidding sideways through the water, exposing its flanks while protecting the smaller raft. Rounds ricocheted off the hull-then moved higher toward the bridge. Glass shattered from the ship’s windows. Men flattened themselves to the deck.

Out in the water, the Zodiac hightailed it toward the northern edge of the cove. It bounced across the waves as guards along the beach opened fire. Return shots sparked from the raft, accompanied by the smoking trail of a rocket-propelled grenade. It struck the beach and exploded, throwing sand high and shredding a palm tree.

As guards scattered from the beach the pontoon boat continued its flight across the waters, looking like it was trying to circle out and head toward the sandy spit that connected the two islands.

Before Duncan could assess that threat, a greater concern arose.

A man, popping into view atop the bridge of the fishing charter, balanced a long weapon on one shoulder. He knelt down and angled the black tube of a rocket launcher toward the villa.

Motherfuck-

Duncan twisted away from the window as smoke blasted out the back of the weapon. A rocket roared straight at him-or rather at the gun battery above him. Either way, he didn’t want to be here.

He dove toward the door.

LORNA STOOD FROZEN with Malik and Bennett in the nursery ward. The child in her arms clung to the collar of her blouse and trembled violently as gunfire rattled-then a gut-punching blast boomed down to them. Muffled by rock, the explosion still shook the walls.

Everybody held their breath, then the first child began crying. In seconds, it spread like wildfire among the children. A day-care worker-a round-bellied Chinese woman-tried in vain to console the group, but they refused to calm down. The girl in Lorna’s arms buried her tiny face and continued to tremble.

“We’re under attack,” Malik said.

“Stay here.” Bennett moved toward the door, but before he could take two steps, it banged open.

Connor burst into the room and crossed quickly toward them. “Sir, are you okay?”

“What’s going on?”

“Commander Kent radioed down. The boat in the cove opened fire on us. Believes they’re pirates.”

Pirates? Lorna tried to fathom such a thing. She had heard stories from Kyle about roving bands of marauders who plied the Gulf waters and hijacked ships at sea or ransacked homes along the coasts. Even an oil rig in the Gulf had once been attacked.

Bennett continued toward the door. “Take me to Duncan.”

“He said I should keep everyone here.”

“Bullshit. I’m not some child to hide in a hole.”

Malik joined his boss. “If there’s a problem, I need to get back to my lab. Secure our viral samples in case this problem escalates. If we lose those samples, we’ve lost everything.”

Bennett nodded. “Do it.”

Malik waved to the day-care worker in the room. “Come with me. I’ll need a hand.”

Connor made a halfhearted attempt to block them. “Sir.”

Bennett strong-armed the guard out of the way and reached the exit. “Keep Dr. Polk here.” He glanced back to her. “We’ll continue our discussion as soon as this fire is stamped out.”

Malik followed his boss.

Connor stood for a moment, then cursed and stomped off after them. He didn’t even glance back as he secured the door and left Lorna alone.

With the door sealed, the rattle of the raging firefight muffled to a dull popping. Still, she could tell it had begun to escalate. Alarm bells joined the cacophony, along with distant muffled screams.

What was going on?

She didn’t know, but her mind fought for some way to turn this chaos to her advantage. If she could break out, reach a radio, maybe even a boat…

But what then? Even if she could get off the island, what hope was there to escape through pirate-infested waters?

As she held the child the others drew toward her like moths to a flame, needing reassurance, growing quiet. She had to protect them, but was there another way out of here?

With her heart pounding, she hurried to an open door at the rear of the nursery. She popped her head through, seeking some means of escape. Rows of raised cribs lined both sides of a long narrow room. Only these cradles were made of steel and had lids that locked.

Despite the danger, anger stoked inside her. How could anyone be this callous with these innocent children? Large moist eyes stared at her, tracking her as she searched the rooms.

Alone now, she no longer had to mask her emotions. Fear turned to fury. She used it, allowed it to spread like a fire through her belly. She had wilted under panic once before-but never again.

These bastards had stolen everything from her: her life, her brother, her friends, even Jack. This last thought sapped some of her will. If Jack could not stop them, what hope was there for her?

She searched the remainder of her confinement. Other than a small lavatory and bathroom, there was no other exit from the dormitory. She was trapped here. They all were.

Not knowing what else to do, she returned to the center of the room. The children gathered around her. Some clung to her legs, others sucked thumbs, a few softly sobbed. She settled to the floor with them.

A small boy climbed into her lap, joining the girl. The two clung to each other. The pair reminded her of the conjoined capuchin monkeys back at the lab. But she knew these two-the entire group, in fact-were merged at a level beyond mere flesh. More children nestled around her. Every pop and rattle of gunfire trembled through the group like a pebble dropped into a pond.

She did her best to reassure them. She reached out and touched each one. Where contact was made, they seemed to relax. Caramel-brown eyes shone at her. Tiny fingers clung to her, to each other. They smelled warmly of baby powder and sour milk.

Despite her fear and physical discomfort, a trickle of peace spread through her. She couldn’t say where it originated: from herself, from the children. It didn’t matter. The peace inside her was not one of slothful contentment, but of determined resolve, a steadying of her keel.