The 6th Extinction (Page 90)

If Cutter ever got hold of this last critical piece of information, Kendall knew he could figure out the rest of his biological puzzle.

“Do not take long.” Cutter waved to the screen. “There is a counteragent to what plagues Ms. Beck, but it must be administered within the hour or the neurological effects will be permanent.”

“There’s a cure?” Kendall swallowed.

“Indeed.” He glanced toward the large refrigerator at the back of the BSL4 lab. “A protein that’s a mirror image of what I engineered. It’s capable of repairing the neuronal damage wrought by my prion, but like I said, there is a time limit. A point of no return for Ms. Beck.”

Kendall had a larger worry beyond the young park ranger. “And if I give you that name, you’ll tell me how to stop what’s spreading in California.”

Cutter rubbed his chin, plainly feigning concentration. “I am a man of my word. That was my original offer. But that was before Ms. Beck arrived.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll let you choose. I can either teach you how to eradicate the horror unleashed from your lab . . . or I can save Ms. Beck. But not both.”

Kendall stared at the screen, knowing he would have to tell Cutter the truth eventually. With time, the bastard would get the information out of him anyway.

He turned to Cutter, his voice low with defeat. “You’ll need the blood from one of the Antarctic species.”

“Which one?”

“Volitox ignis.”

Cutter looked truly thoughtful now. “Those fiery eels. A daunting task indeed. I’ll have to make a call before it’s too late. Seems I might have gotten ahead of myself with my plans. Jumping the gun, as you Americans say.”

The man began to turn away.

“Cutter, you promised.”

He turned back. “Of course, sorry. Which cure do you want? The one for Ms. Beck . . . or for the world?”

Kendall stared back at the screen, at the small woman huddled in the cage. At the same time, he pictured the wrath of destruction spreading over the mountains of California.

I’m sorry, Jenna.

Kendall turned to Cutter. “How do I kill what I created?”

“It’s the simplest of all solutions. Have you never wondered why that biosphere under Antarctica never spread to the greater world? Surely there have been breaches in the past, small escapes that have leaked out. But it’s never fully broken loose. I suspect it would take great numbers to do that.”

Kendall struggled for an answer. What was so unique about Antarctica? What kept that world trapped below? Was it the salty seas, the ice, the cold? He had already experimented with such variables in the past at his lab.

“We’ve tried subzero temperatures, various salinities, heavy metal toxins, like those found in the surrounding oceans,” Kendall admitted. “Nothing’s killed it.”

“Because you were thinking too small, my friend . . . that’s always been your problem. You look at the trees and miss the forest. You think locally versus globally.”

Cutter lifted an eyebrow, as if testing Kendall.

He pondered the significance.

Globally.

What was Cutter driving at?

Then he suddenly knew.

1:24 P.M.

Jenna rubbed the nape of her neck, careful not to shift too close to the bars of the cage. The dull ache in her cervical vertebrae had become a tight muscular spasm, shooting fiery lances of agony throughout her skull. Even her eyes hurt, making the dull green glow of the forest seem too bright.

She knew the significance of these symptoms.

It’s already starting.

She began to repeat a mantra, fearing what was coming.

I am Jenna Beck, daughter of Gayle and Charles. I live at the corner of D Street and Lee Vining Avenue. My dog’s name is Nikko, his birthday is . . .

She fought through the pain to hold on to every scrap of her identity, testing her memory for any sign of deterioration.

But will I even know when it’s happening?

She breathed deeply, taking in the rich perfume of the jungle, trying to find her center, to keep panic at bay. All around, she heard water dripping, the thrush of bird’s wings, the creak of branches, the whisper of leaves.

One detail struck her as wrong, nagging at the edges of her consciousness. It was still too quiet here. She detected no birdsong, no chatter of monkeys, no scurried passage of something small through the underbrush.

Then, as if something sensed her awareness, a branch snapped to her left. Her gaze flicked in that direction, but all she saw was a shift of shadows. Her eyes strained to pierce the walls of ferns surrounding the clearing.

Nothing.

But she knew the truth, remembering the angry roaring from earlier, along with the extreme caution of the guards when delivering her to this prison.

I’m not alone.

1:25 P.M.

Think globally . . .

Was that the answer all along?

Kendall closed his eyes, picturing the planet spinning, the crust riding atop a molten sea, all surrounding a sold iron core that was two-thirds the size of the moon. Convection currents in that molten iron, along with the Coriolis forces from the earth’s rotation, generated an electrical geodynamo that engulfed the earth in a vast magnetic field.

“Magnetism,” Kendall said. “That’s what keeps that shadow biosphere trapped under Antarctica.”

“And where on the planet is the earth’s magnetic field the strongest?”

“The poles.” He imagined that field blasting strongly out from either end of the earth, encircling the globe. “And it’s weakest near the equators.”

“But where else is it weakest?”

Kendall knew the answer had to be tied to the location of the Hell’s Cape. He pictured that hot world far beneath the ice, the perfect incubator for strange life. He remembered the sulfur, the bubbling pools.

He looked up at Cutter. “Geothermal zones,” he said. “The earth’s magnetic field is weaker in regions of volcanic activity.”

“Correct. The molten magma underlying those regions cannot hold its ferromagnetism, creating a local dip in the earth’s field, an island if you will in a sea of stronger magnetic currents.”

Kendall imagined Hell’s Cape as that island, trapped within Antarctica’s stronger field. It still seemed a far stretch to assume that magnetic differential was enough to keep life trapped in place. Something had to make life down there especially sensitive to magnetic fields, something basic to its nature.