“Your number was blocked; I’m going to need a good callback number.”
Peyton opened the phone’s settings and read the number out. Travers thanked her, and Peyton said, “Corporal?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“How many messages are in this… queue?”
“Three hundred and sixteen, ma’am.”
She shook her head. “One last thing, Corporal. I’m the CDC’s leading epidemiologist. I’m the one they sent to Kenya when we first found out about the outbreak. Maybe that’s in your files, or maybe you can see my employment history. I’m close to this investigation. Whoever is seeing these messages will know who I am. They’ll call me first. You need to move my message to the top of the list. Do you understand?”
“Do you require further assistance, ma’am?”
She leaned her head back and groaned.
After she’d ended the call, she activated the phone’s web browser. If she could get in touch with the WHO, maybe they could connect her to the CDC. But she didn’t know the WHO’s number. The thought reminded her of Jonas, and seeing his number pop up on her phone a week ago in her condo. If they had split up in Kenya, would he still be alive? Had being near her put him in harm’s way? She tried to focus.
The WHO web address redirected to a site called EuroShield. The page prompted her to enter her information so she could receive the address of a local “EuroCordon center.” The site asked questions nearly identical to those asked by the American operator. Europe apparently had a similar pandemic disaster protocol.
She tried navigating to several more web sites, but the only sites that ever came up were BioShield in America, EuroShield in Europe, and similar sites in Asia and Russia.
Clearly whatever had happened in America had also occurred around the world—almost simultaneously. Phones and internet had been routed, contained. Peyton wondered if it was the dawn of a new dark age, or perhaps something even worse.
She found Desmond outside the cafeteria, staring at a smartphone, leaning against the wall.
“Did you find it?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said, lost in thought.
“Every web address redirects to emergency websites. Phone lines route to a call center.”
“The app still works,” he mumbled.
The news thrilled Peyton. This could be the break they needed. “And?” she prompted eagerly.
“It gave me a location this time,” Desmond said. “An island north of Scotland. It’s barely inhabited.”
She could see he was frustrated. Maybe he had expected something more substantial. Or maybe it was the time he had spent walking through the camp.
She told him about her call with the BioShield operator. They speculated on the state of things in America, Europe, and in particular Shetland, where the key to finding a cure could be waiting for them.
“If Great Britain is locked down, they might shoot us out of the sky the minute we enter British airspace.”
“That’s assuming,” Peyton said, “we can enter British airspace. Can you fly a plane?”
An amused smile crossed Desmond’s lips. “I don’t know. Can’t remember. There’s really only one way to know.”
She studied him for a minute, unsure if he was serious.
Smiling, he said, “Kidding.”
That left Avery. Neither spoke her name.
Peyton simply said, “I don’t trust her.”
“You don’t like her.”
“True. I also don’t trust her. Her rescue was too convenient.”
“Or timely.”
“Do you trust her?”
Desmond exhaled. “I’m not sure. I want to. But… It’s a weird thing, not knowing everything that happened to me, my true history with her. It’s… impossible to explain.”
He looked Peyton in the eye. “I’d also like to know the rest of our history.”
She said nothing.
“Why won’t you tell me?”
“It’s in the past,” she said quietly.
He was silent for a few seconds, then took the phone from his pocket. “I need someone I can trust. I lied to Avery on the helicopter. The app I found in Berlin is actually called Labyrinth Reality. I took two identical phones. I’ll keep the one without the Labyrinth app; I want you to keep the one that has the app.”
Peyton looked at the screen.
“It says downloading. Downloading what?”
“I don’t know. The message popped up shortly after the entrance was located.”
When Peyton looked up, Avery was standing in the hall. She hadn’t heard the other woman walk up. She wondered how long Avery had been there—and how much she’d heard.
Desmond followed Peyton’s gaze. To Avery, he said, “Did you get through?”
“Phones are down. Web, too. We’re in the dark.”
Peyton tucked Desmond’s cell phone in her pocket. She saw Avery watching her.
“Did the app work?” Avery asked Desmond.
He recounted what he had learned, including the Labyrinth location in Shetland, though he still pretended as though the app were something associated with CityForge.
“Shetland’s a long way away,” Avery said. “Do we have a plane?”
Peyton started off down the hall. “Let’s find out.”
Outside the operating room, Peyton found Elim talking quietly with the villager she had seen in the mess hall.
“About our other request,” Peyton said.
Elim smiled. “Follow me.”
He led them out of the building, across the aid camp, to a single-lane runway. At the end, Peyton could make out a large plane without many windows. A cargo plane. And as her eyes adjusted to the night, she saw the unmistakable emblem of a red cross on the side.
“They arrived with supplies just as the outbreak began. They didn’t make it. It’s yours if you can use it. Besides, there are no pilots here.”
Without a word, Avery began walking across the runway toward it.
Desmond shot Peyton a look that said, I’ll keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn’t leave without us.
Peyton thanked Elim, but the man waved it off.