Gray reached his parent’s front door and tugged on it.
It didn’t budge.
He was about to knock when the door opened.
Seichan stood there, cocking an eyebrow. She dangled a key from a finger. “I changed the locks.”
“What? Why?”
She stepped back to let him inside. In his mind’s eye, he knew exactly what his parents’ home looked like.
But with a blink, it all vanished.
The furniture was gone. The carpets had been ripped up and replaced with hand-scraped hardwoods. The large fireplace had been re-rocked. Even from the doorway, he could see the kitchen had new granite counters and cabinets.
“Seichan . . .”
“Shut up.” She grabbed his hand and drew him toward the stairs leading to the second floor, but not before she nodded outside to the yard, to the sign posted out there. “Who do you think bought this place?”
Before he could respond, he was hauled up the stairs.
Everything was changed. The wood banister was now wrought iron. The wallpaper stripped. Everything was freshly painted.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “Your father’s Thunderbird is still in the garage. Wasn’t about to part with that beauty. Plus there are boxes of personal items. You can go through those later. But first . . .”
She stopped at a closed door. “It’s time to stop running from your ghosts.”
Gray felt a chill at how well she could read him.
She opened the door and pulled him inside. The tiny bedroom was as empty as the rest of the house. Only a single item of furniture stood there.
A pure white crib.
“While you can’t escape those ghosts,” she said, “you can invite them into your life, let them share your joys and sorrows.”
Gray felt a sob rising up and fought against it. He looked around, breathing deeply. “All this effort . . . and I didn’t even have a clue.”
She shrugged. “You’re not that difficult to fool, Gray. Besides, for me, doing all this was more of a vacation than hopping around the world.”
He shook his head, smiling now, tears rising. “Then we’d better enjoy it while we can. This peace won’t last for long.”
“You’re right.” Her face grew grim. “Valya’s out there. No doubt plotting something.”
Gray turned to her, dropped to his knees, and lifted the lower edge of her blouse. He kissed her stomach and whispered to her belly.
“That’s not what I meant.”
EPILOGUE
HALEAKALA, MAUI
Σ
QUEEN
She knows it is time.
A biological clock, fueled by hormones, triggers her new body to writhe in its black chrysalis. Mandibles reach up to snip at the cap of silk she had spun as a larva. A hole is chewed through, softened by saliva steeped in the queen substance excreted by glands in her maw.
One antenna uncurls and extends out, probing the world beyond. Fine sensillae test the moist cool air. Once satisfied, she batters her triangular head through the opening and uses hooks in her forelegs to split the pupal case. The thin chrysalis crumples under her weight as she wriggles around and perches there.
She pauses to groom herself in the darkness, readying herself to be revealed. She cleans her unblinking black eyes and brushes each antenna with fine combs on the underside of her forelegs.
All the while, haemolymph pumps through the long veins of her damp and crinkled wings. They slowly spread and expand. Once the wings are draped long and sturdy, she flutters them dry.
Only then is she ready.
She crawls off her perch to the damp rock of the tunnel. It is here she had spun her cocoon months ago, safely hidden in the dark. Now she follows the rock, escaping away from where she had come, seeking a new home in a new direction.
Her abdomen is already heavy with eggs, pluripotent clones of herself, capable of becoming every caste of her new swarm.
She carries the very future inside her.
As she travels, she leaves an aromatic path in her wake. The alluring scent will draw any of the old swarm still in the area, a sweet trap that will kill, erasing that genetic lineage behind her. Only her code must survive, unchallenged by the past.
She moves relentlessly. She will not stop until she has found a suitable home. But as she continues, the stone under her feet grows colder. Still, she presses onward, driven by a millennia-old drive to survive. She smells fresh air far ahead, promising a new opening to the upper world.
Before she can reach there, the stone grows a layer of ice.
She pauses, casting out her senses in snaps of her hind legs and testing the air with her antenna. An image forms in the knotted ganglions of her brain.
The tunnel ahead shows ice covering every surface. Drapes and spikes and waves. Despite the danger, she continues forward, unable to turn back, incapable of defying her genetic instinct. She heads into the cold, timeless and patient. She will not change. Instead, she will wait for the world to do so.
If not now, her time would come again.
Knowing this, she marches into the cold tunnels, until her wings frost over and her legs stiffen. Her body grows cold. She only stops when the pads of her feet finally freeze to the ice.
There, she will remain.
There, she abides.
Awaiting her chance to rise again.
AUTHOR’S NOTE TO READERS:
TRUTH OR FICTION
We’ve come once again, you and I, to that moment when I must separate fact from fiction. Of course, I would prefer it if you simply believed every word—as that’s any novelist’s goal. But sometimes truth is as fascinating as any fiction, so let’s go ahead and separate that chaff from the wheat.
I thought I’d start with the past and work my way forward. This book is full of interesting characters out of history, including the mysterious founder of the Smithsonian Institution. Perhaps it’s best we start with him.
James Smithson
Considering this British chemist and geologist founded our nation’s greatest institution of knowledge, he remains vastly underappreciated. I hope this novel helps correct this egregious oversight. Almost everything written here about the man is factual. He was an esteemed member of the British Royal Society, and he traveled throughout Europe collecting a vast mineral collection that was indeed bequeathed to the United States, along with his fortune (a collection that unfortunately was destroyed when a fire broke out at the Smithsonian Castle near the end of World War II).
After his death, Alexander Graham Bell and his wife did indeed sneak off to Europe and return with his bones. As to the tomb, the symbols found on his grave, along with the error about his age, are real. I suggest you go to the Castle and check out these details for yourself. And if you feel like it, please place a flower there in his memory.
If you can’t make such a trip and want to know more about the man and his life, I recommend you read:
The Lost World of James Smithson, by Heather Ewing
Joseph Henry
The first secretary of the Smithsonian, Joseph Henry, oversaw the museum during the Civil War, including being present when the infamous fire broke out there. The arson was said to be due to the faulty installation of a stove and not the nefarious work of early members of the Guild. But rumors abound whether there might be more to this story, as Joseph Henry, a devout abolitionist, was secretly helping Abraham Lincoln during the war.
Archibald MacLeish
The investigative hero of this story was indeed a Librarian of Congress during World War II. In his role as the head of the Committee for the Conservation of Cultural Resources, he secured the nation’s treasures. Fearing bombing raids during the war, he sent the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and a copy of the Gutenberg Bible to Fort Knox. Even the Smithsonian buried the Star-Spangled Banner deep in the Shenandoah National Park. But early on, Archibald had advocated for building a bombproof shelter beneath the National Mall to store national treasu
res in times of crisis. Unfortunately, Congress shot down his idea due to its expense.
Moving from the past to the present, let’s look into the science behind the novel. Here is where fact is often stranger than fiction, especially in regards to . . .
Wasps, Wasps, and More Wasps
This novel explores some of the intriguing biology, behavior, and lives of Hymenoptera species. In the sections of the book written from the perspective of various wasp drones, all of their fantastical abilities, skills, senses, and horrors are all based on real species found in the wild. For a fascinating (and disturbing) glimpse into that world, I recommend the following books:
The Wasp That Brainwashed the Caterpillar, by Matt Simon
Planet of the Bugs: Evolution and the Rise of Insects, by Scott Richard Shaw
As to the science of venom and the search for new drugs, the following books are eye-openers in regard to the potential locked up in such toxic glands:
The Sting of the Wild, by Justin O. Schmidt
Venomous: How Earth’s Deadliest Creatures Mastered Biochemistry, by Christie Wilcox
Finally, the novel posits a question: What role did insects have in the death of the dinosaurs? The answer: A lot! For great insight and a provocative argument, check out:
What Bugged the Dinosaurs? Insects, Disease, and Death in the Cretaceous, by George Poinar Jr. and Roberta Poinar
Throughout this book, there are thousands of other details about insect life and the part they play in our lives, all of which are real, but let me stress one final point. As horrific as the Odokuro seem to be, wasps play an important role in nature. Not only are they important pollinators, but they control the populations of undesirable insects. In fact, a single wasp nest is said to control five metric tons of garden pests within one year. So maybe a sting or two is well worth the price of having them around. Of course, make sure they’re not the prehistoric Odokuro.
Lazarus Microbes and Tardigrades
I lumped these two topics together as both organisms address the subject matter featured in this novel: the amazing genetic abilities of some species to survive against impossible odds. As I was finishing this novel, National Geographic featured an article about tardigrades titled “These ‘Indestructible’ Animals Would Survive a Planet-Wide Apocalypse.” And they’re not wrong. Similarly, in the May 20, 2017, issue of New Scientist, an article titled “Wakey, Wakey” by Colin Barras recounts the astounding ability of Lazarus microbes to survive for hundreds of millions of years in salt crystals, their lives suspended in “a twilight zone between life and death.”
It’s also been well documented that many species “borrow” advantageous code from others, especially following viral or bacterial infections. So considering the advantages locked up in the DNA of Lazarus microbes and tardigrades, who can say if such miraculous traits aren’t already being “borrowed” by some ambitious species?
Invasive Species
The crux of this novel is the environmental threat posed by foreign invaders. Gray mentions the damage wrought by the introduction of pythons in the Everglades, European rabbits in Australia, and Asian carp in our lakes. But other examples of invasive species are plentiful and global. In fact, one of the worries of homeland security is that some hostile power might weaponize such a species and use it as a means of waging war. Especially as such a threat is nearly impossible to defend against.
One of the joys for me of writing novels is to explore intriguing corners of the world. And this novel is no exception. So I thought I’d share how amazing some of these locations truly are. Feel free to book your next vacations.
Tallinn, Estonia
I had a chance to visit this city a few years ago. It was like falling back into a piece of medieval history. The Old Town, with its narrow streets and cobblestoned alleys, is a wonder. Yet, at the same time, the city is truly the Silicon Valley of Europe, where there are more tech start-ups per capita than anywhere on the continent. Likewise, their national library is an amazing edifice of both modern and medieval features, a true testament to the city. So I guess I should apologize for blowing up a good portion of it.
The Amber Road
This ancient trade route ran from St. Petersburg to Venice, Italy. It’s so ancient, in fact, that the breastplate of Tutankhamen does indeed bear pieces of Baltic amber. The two amber museums featured in this novel—one in Gdansk, the other in Krakow—are real places and open to the public. And the museum in Krakow does indeed have a sophisticated lab for analyzing amber.
Wieliczka Salt Mines
While the mine is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, it truly should be one of the wonders of the world. Everything described in this novel concerning the beauty and majesty of the salt mine is factual. I had to move a few details around to focus the storytelling, but not much. The tourist map featured in the novel (drawn by Mariusz Szelerewicz and used by permission of his daughter Paulina) offers a glimpse into this amazing labyrinth. When the story ventures deeper into the mine, some of the geography and geology is of my own imagining. But the details regarding the sheer size of the lakes found down there—like how windsurfers have plied those waters, propelled by giant fans—are real.
Japan and Mount Fuji
The small resort town and lake featured in this book are real places. The campus and Ice Castle of Fenikkusu Laboratories are, of course, not. As to the frozen lava tunnels beneath Mount Fuji, they exist (and yes, surprisingly they can be found in Hawaii, too). Even the memorial shrine to martyred insects, where Takashi Ito burns incense in memory of his dead wife, can be found at the temple of Kan’ei-ji in Tokyo.
Concerning the state of Japanese intelligence services, it’s true that they are in the process of revamping, consolidating, and extending their international reach. They are making this transition slowly and cautiously, likely for the very reason featured here: fearing infiltration and corruption. As to Akio’s new covert group—TaU—that’s also pure speculation. Though some of the weaponry they employ in this book is based on theoretical prototypes designed by DARPA. At least, they claim to be theoretical.
Maui and the Outer Hawaiian Islands
I tried to be as accurate as possible in regard to the geography of Hana, but some details of the story had to be slightly changed. Still, you can’t go wrong visiting there and checking for yourself how much is real.
Moving on to the northwestern Hawaiian archipelago, I must admit I did create my own island out there (such is a novelist’s power). While Ikikauō Atoll is pure fiction, it’s actually based on details found on two neighboring islands. The island of Laysan goes by the Hawaiian name Kauō, which means “egg.” Similar to my fictitious Ikikauō (“Little Egg”), Laysan boasts a large inland lake. As to the abandoned Coast Guard station, that’s actually found nearby on Kure Atoll, not far from Midway. Still, it is true that sunken World War II–era wrecks litter the entire region.
Lastly, the existence of the Great Pacific Garbage Patch is unfortunately real, including its vast size and the threat it poses to the outer Hawaiian Islands. Even the small detail about “ghost fishing” is also tragically true.
So that brings us to the end of the story. A thousand other bits and pieces are also true, but as I mentioned from the start: I’d prefer you believe all of it.
Still, before I sign off, I thought I’d leave you with one additional poem from the Japanese Buddhist nun Otagaki Rengetsu. Her words convey my final wish to you all:
In the future,
happiness
and long life . . .
two sprouting leaves
to grow a thousand years.
So may you all live long and happy lives. As for the stalwart members of Sigma Force . . . well, only time will tell.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book has so many fingerprints upon each page, most of those from a certain circle of critics who have been there since the beginning of my writing career, back when I was a full-time practicing veterinarian, writing short stories that ar
e now safely buried in my backyard. So first and foremost, let me thank that close-knit bevy of readers who serve as my initial editors: Sally Ann Barnes, Chris Crowe, Lee Garrett, Jane O’Riva, Denny Grayson, Leonard Little, Judy Prey, Caroline Williams, Christian Riley, Tod Todd, and Amy Rogers. And as always, a special thanks to Steve Prey for the great maps . . . and to David Sylvian for both keeping me grounded and pushing me to greater heights . . . and to Cherei McCarter for the many significant historical and scientific tidbits found within these pages . . . and Hiroaki Endo, who helped with the Japanese translations (though any errors are my own) . . . and Paulina Szylkiewicz, for allowing me to use her father’s map in this book, and Monica Szczepa, for facilitating this connection. Finally and reluctantly, I must thank Steve Berry for his assistance with some of the historical details surrounding the Smithsonian, as, inadvertently, we were both working on stories involving that fine institution. And of course, a big note of appreciation to everyone at HarperCollins for always having my back, especially Michael Morrison, Liate Stehlik, Danielle Bartlett, Kaitlin Harri, Josh Marwell, Lynn Grady, Richard Aquan, Tom Egner, Shawn Nicholls, and Ana Maria Allessi. Last, of course, a special acknowledgment to the people instrumental to all levels of production: my esteemed editor who has been with me since my first book was published two decades ago, Lyssa Keusch, and her industrious colleague Priyanka Krishnan; and for all their hard work, my agents, Russ Galen and Danny Baror (along with his daughter Heather Baror). And as always, I must stress that any and all errors of fact or detail in this book, of which hopefully there are not too many, fall squarely on my own shoulders.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
James Rollins is the New York Times bestselling author of international thrillers that have been translated into more than forty languages. His Sigma Force series has been lauded as one of the “top crowd-pleasers” (New York Times) and one of the “hottest summer reads” (People). He lives in the Sierra Nevada mountains.