One Great Year (51 page)

The Emissaries, and the other prisoners being held in South America, had no idea what was happening in the world outside their walls. Eden was oblivious that she had inadvertently saved the lives of the Crystal Children she had led to Chile from Brisbane and Sydney. The captives were in awe of their collective energy and memories, and they remained deeply affected as they interacted with one another, now as old friends.

Quinn and Eden had hardly left one another's side since her memory had been restored. Marcus and Theron were reunited, and her love for him was no longer restrained. She couldn't take her eyes off him. How had she not seen it before?

Strangely, Nate had spent a great amount of time running his hands along the smooth walls and floor of the bunker. Finally Quinn questioned him about it.

“There are tunnels under here, I'm sure of it. I remember them. I've been here before,” Nate said, pulling Quinn and Eden aside so no one else would hear.

“Why haven't you said anything?” Eden asked.

“Shame, I suppose. I was a German soldier, a Nazi under General Hans Kammler. He brought us here.” Nate's memory had been growing stronger every day.

“There is nothing to be ashamed of, Nate. There's no group that is entirely bad or good. You must have had a role to play somehow … maybe to have this knowledge to help us now,” Quinn suggested.

“What about the tunnels? Where do they lead?” Eden asked.

“Did you ever read
A Journey to the Centre of the Earth
? I think the tunnels are ancient, like Atlantis kind of ancient,” Nate said.

“It would make sense if Grey Elder was Kammler. Maybe he started this place way back then and he always planned to come back,” Eden offered.

It sounded likely, but Quinn knew the truth. He didn't tell Eden that he had seen for himself that Helghul, not Grey Elder, had been Kammler. In 1939, then a young Czech scientist, Marcus had been forcibly recruited to work on the secret Nazi Bell project by Kammler. The project had used ancient knowledge of gravity-free flight and had depended on Marcus's memory to succeed. Helghul had used Theron's imprisonment in Theresienstadt, a Jewish ghetto, to blackmail him. Even still, when the Nazis had somehow unearthed the necessary atlantium crystal, Marcus had intentionally blown up the Prague installation, thus destroying the Nazi's best chance of winning the war.

“What if it's Shambhala?” Eden suggested, remembering her time as Borte.

“The Nazis searched for Shambhala relentlessly, all based on Nicholas Roerich's book!” Nate exclaimed.

“That's it!” Quinn said. “The underworld of Mother Earth is linked by scores of caverns and tunnels.”

“But how do we get to them?” Eden asked.

“I'll guide you,” Nate said simply.

Quinn smiled at his old friend. “Of course you will,” he said, clapping the guide on the back.

The American president was harshly criticized for supporting Zahn.

“You can't give him so much power and influence! We're American, dammit, the world expects us to lead!” bellowed a heavy-set senator in frustration.

“He has the antidote! I have no doubt that without him we'll be the next continent of corpses!” the president countered.

“Did you ever think that maybe
he
was responsible for the outbreak?” the politician boomed.

“Why? To what end? He isn't even charging for the vaccine! If he was benefiting somehow, making billions, I might think you're onto something,” the president argued.

“They're touting him as some kind of savior! Did you read the
Washington Post
and the
New York Times
today? ‘A saint,' they said. They'd crown him fucking king of the world if they could!”

“We need him,” the president argued.

“We have access to the best scientists and doctors in the world. We can find our own antidote,” the senator continued to rage.

“How long will that take? How much money will it cost? Are you willing to risk lives? Your wife and daughter's? I'm not. My ego can stand down and let him pay the bill. If you haven't noticed, our economy is already on the brink of collapse. Popsicle sticks hold the fucker together. We couldn't afford to vaccinate Oregon, let alone the planet!”

“How can
he
?”

“That's his problem,” the president retorted.

“So if he didn't unleash this virus, who did, and why?” the senator asked for the thousandth time.

“I've thought of nothing else since it happened. I've been hoping for a note, a sign, someone taking credit. Nothing! Did you ever wonder … maybe the nut jobs are right? Is it fucking Revelations? You go to church on Sunday. You've read the Bible. My wife read me a quote last night, from the book of Zechariah. It says something about ‘flesh consuming away while we stand on our feet, eyes and tongues consumed in their holes.'”
³⁵

“Armageddon? Are you serious? You think it's the end of the world?” the man asked, stunned.

“All I know is our people are running scared and they
need
a savior right now. Zahn fits the bill! The economy is in total collapse. We cannot fight a war against an invisible enemy! He's offered his help and I'm happy to take it!” the president shouted, grateful for the outlet of emotion.

“At what cost?” his cohort asked simply.

“I don't know,” the president breathed, resigned to their helplessness. “Time will tell.”

“If it is Revelations, we're in bed with the Devil.”

“If I had a nickel for every time I've been called the Antichrist, I could afford to vaccinate the goddamn planet myself,” the president said. “And remember this. If Zahn
is
responsible for Australia, then he
has
the virus and he's prepared to
use
it.
That
is not an enemy I want to make.”

Across the Atlantic, half a day away, the British prime minister was involved in a strikingly similar conference call with the leaders of Germany, France, and Belgium. They had agreed to the vaccinations but felt less than grateful.

“It's goddamn Revelations, for Christ's sake! What're we supposed to do?” the British leader moaned, exhausted.

“If you truly believe that, I suggest you rethink your expletives,” the leader of Belgium advised wryly over the speakerphone.

“Bloody hell!” the Brit said, running his hands through his thinning hair and gulping his Scotch.

“That's better,” the German chancellor interjected. “Now what are we going to do about this mess?”

After Zahn's broadcast, people around the world responded with desperation and panic. They had naively hoped that Australia was an anomaly. They had hoped that they were safe in their distant lands. Many were anxious to get vaccinated as soon as possible, while others were unconvinced.

Grey Elder's campaign for mass vaccination had been prepared well in advance, and he was busy putting the plan into motion. He was interfacing with both the cooperative and uncooperative leaders of the world.

The Chinese head of state had refused Zahn's offer of protection. Before his refusal became public, he died of what was officially recorded as a heart attack. He was actually poisoned by his second in command, who then assumed the leadership and willingly agreed to allow the vaccinations to begin. His life was spared and his bank account was buoyed. More than a billion Chinese would be given the option of survival through inoculation. Like people across the entire planet, each individual would have to choose for themselves.

There were other leaders who resisted, and Zahn surreptitiously bought his way into many unwilling countries: North Korea, Iran, Pakistan, and more. His wealth and power seemed endless, and the leaders were bribed and threatened as necessary. No one wanted their country to be the next Nobu graveyard.

Clinics were set up in hospitals, schools, churches, synagogues, mosques, and town halls. Immunizations were quick and virtually painless. The individual's identity was recorded, the left hand was placed face up, there was a quick pinch-click to the inner wrist, the serum was injected, and vaccination was complete. Only a crescent-shaped mark remained. The individual was now free from fear of the virus.

Millions lined up to be marked, some tentative and some relieved. By car, train, donkey, camel, and foot people came and waited, sometimes for hours or days. They had come willingly to receive the vaccination. They had made their choice. Some felt no difference, but others wandered away staring at the scar on their skin, feeling that something profound had occurred. In some cases, a heaviness descended over those who had complied. Could there have been something more to the vaccine, an undeclared side effect? Sometimes they regretted their decision, but it was not a choice that could be undone.

“I take it back!” one wild-eyed mother exclaimed outside a clinic in the streets of São Paulo, Brazil. In the air, she held up her hand and the wrist of her crying infant. The child bobbled at her fleshy hip, jostled by her dismay. “I should not have done it! I marked my child! I sold our souls to the Devil! Walk away, mothers. Walk away, people. I feel my blood polluted and changed! It is our power that we hand over!” she shouted and wailed in rapid Portuguese, begging others to resist and rubbing at the immoveable mark until it bled.

Some did walk away, but most stayed and averted their eyes. Even the majority of those who had left returned later and were likewise marked. They felt the snap-click of the vaccination, and for a few that was all—the simple prick and blemish. However, for the majority, stating their name and choosing to be stamped disturbed them beyond their expectations. The finality and permanence of the imprint was troubling. The alternative was much worse, wasn't it? What else could they do? Parents, caregivers, breadwinners—how could they stand against this disease unprotected?

It didn't make any sense, yet people refused. En masse, publicly, and privately, millions of individuals and groups made solemn oaths denouncing the inoculation and refusing to be marked, prepared to live or die with the consequences.

Over the next few weeks Zahn's immunization initiative monopolized world news. Families were torn apart by the dilemma of whether or not to proceed with the vaccinations. The whole world was dividing into friend and family groups.

“How do we know they're not going to poison us with the injections?” people wondered fearfully. “Maybe it's a plot, population control …”

“He's American. The Americans are behind it all; we can't trust him. They are trying to control the world,” a million voices cried, in dozens of languages.

“He's a saint.”

“It will turn us into zombies or robots!”

“It's just like in the Bible! The mark of the beast!” others cried, terrified.

“I'd rather die,” some exclaimed bravely.

“I must be first in line!” others schemed.

The pope, who had gone into hiding, broadcast via the Internet from a secret location. He called upon people of all races and religions to unite. “We are all One. Christian, Muslim, Jew. There is no separation. In this time of darkness, renounce the false prophet and do not be marked! It has been foretold that a beast will come with falseness, cloaked in charm and guile. Do not be fooled! God will protect and reward the brave. Heaven awaits. There is a far better place than this,” he promised.

Holy leaders from around the world continued to argue both for and against vaccination. The pope was called both a saint and the Antichrist by different sides, and the debate raged on the Internet, in the streets, in bars, and in private homes.

Whatever the response, there was panic and discord that fed the dark souls of the world, strengthening their energy and pleasing Grey Elder. Crime was at an all-time high, especially violent crime. There was a noticeable undercurrent everywhere, like the energy of a packed house on fight night after the main event. The crowds were keyed up, their adrenaline and testosterone pumping. Gangs roamed neighborhoods looking for trouble. The innocent and weak were afraid to leave their homes except to work, and most avoided the streets, especially after nightfall. Neighbors didn't nod and smile at strangers, afraid of who might take exception. Riots and uprising around the globe continued to escalate.