Driftwood: An Atlas Link Series Novella Read online

  What did he know about what we found? And how the hell did emails get leaked?

  “That’s about what I said,” Trevor said, regarding my explicative.

  “What emails?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “They didn’t clarify, but I secured those computers myself. The Navy’s IT guys triple-checked the network. No one could hack those laptops.”

  “Valerie?” I shuddered to think she’d reveal something like this to the world, but after handing me over on a silver platter to Thompson during the hijacking, I wasn’t sure what she wouldn’t do anymore. Trevor’s childhood friend and academic rival or no, she was now my enemy.

  Trevor shook his head, but doubt shone in his eyes.

  “Thank you for having me,” Dr. Johansson said as the TV screen split in two to show both him and the BBC reporter.

  “Tell me,” the reporter said. “What are we looking at here, assuming the emails are legitimate?”

  “We’re looking at a cover-up of possibly the most important archaeological find of the century.”

  “Have you seen the emails themselves?”

  “Indeed I have, Nancy.” God, his uptight accent was annoying.

  “Can you tell us about them?” Nancy asked.

  I balled my fists rather than chew on my nails. The Navy was watching this, weren’t they? Couldn’t they stop Dr. Johansson? If he said we found Atlantis on primetime TV… I couldn’t decide if the world would believe him or laugh him all the way back to the Mediterranean.

  “Well, there’s a variety of artifacts from multiple time periods,” he said. “Egyptian, Greek, Mayan, Medieval European, Slavic, and yes, even Minoan. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Granted, I wasn’t given the context of the find. The emails contained photos of the artifacts and artworks. This… gives me pause, I must admit.”

  “Pause?” Nancy asked.

  “My God, does he actually have an intelligent bone in his body?” I exclaimed. Keep it to yourself, David. Better yet, walk off camera right now.

  Dr. Johansson nodded. “It’s strange, the assortment of items so random, I… I honestly regret speaking on it at all. I might not have thought anything except for what the email claims the find to be.”

  “Why, what did it say?” Nancy asked.

  I spun on Trevor. “I thought everyone was banned from saying anything about Atlantis in any report or email or anything?”

  He nodded quickly. “They were. The system should have scrubbed the word from emails completely or kept them from being sent.”

  Dr. Johansson grimaced. “I don’t know that I should say.”

  Yes, Johansson. Don’t say Atlantis on TV. Save what’s left of your career. And ours.

  Dr. Johansson rubbed his nose, his cheeks. Oh no. He was going to spill it.

  “Either the Navy has some explaining to do to the academic community about a find related to a more modern museum collection, something that somehow got washed to sea, or…”

  “Or?”

  He bit his lip, like he didn’t want to say it, like he was thinking through all of his options more carefully now that he was on live TV, but thought he had no choice. “Or the U.S. military has been stealing artifacts and artworks from around the globe for years. This assortment of artifacts, you don’t find that naturally in an ancient dig site. Obviously. I mean, Renaissance-era manuscript illuminations in the same resting age condition as Babylonian fertility statues? You don’t find this stuff together in anything but museums.”

  “Shit,” Trevor said.

  “Did he just accuse us of international robbery?” I asked. I’d never get a job in archaeology after this. Not ever.

  Someone’s footfalls thudded down the hall. Dr. Hill rushed into the room. “That son of a bitch.” The profanity from Dr. Hill’s normally easy-going mouth scared me half as much as Dr. Johansson’s accusation.

  “We’re screwed,” I said. “So screwed.”

  “We can’t explain this without explaining Atlantis,” Trevor said.

  Dr. Hill nodded. “Not even our back-up story will cover this, not if he’s actually seen photos from the outpost.”

  “How’d they even get those?” I asked him. “I only emailed you.”

  “And I, you. And my team. That’s it,” Dr. Hill said. His eyes trailed to Trevor. “You don’t think that…”

  “I don’t know,” Trevor said, reading his mind on something I didn’t catch. “Maybe Valerie forwarded pictures to Thompson as proof. But she’s better with computers and hacking than I am. She practically breathes that stuff. She wouldn’t be that careless.”

  “What about Dave?” I voiced. “He couldn’t turn a computer on if the power button wasn’t labeled. If he worked with Thompson, he might not have been as careful.”

  Trevor’s eyes slid shut. “Okay, so it’s possible the photos are legitimate.”

  “What will it take to shut that guy up?” I asked.

  Dr. Hill shook his head. “I don’t know. We need to talk to General Holt.”

  The Admiral’s office, as always, was stifling. No windows, heat always turned way up, and the walls were the most drab color of blue known to mankind. He kept it unreasonably warm, and I apparently hadn’t yet learned to not wear the long-sleeved version of TAO’s para-military uniform when visiting him.

  “First thing’s first,” the Admiral said. “As long as it’s safe to do so, you have to play your band’s show tonight, Chelsea.”

  I blinked, sure I’d heard him wrong. “Excuse me?”

  “Play the show,” he said.

  “The entire U.S. military, especially Dr. Hill and I because of SeaSatellite5, were accused of stealing internationally owned archaeological property. On top of all the other conspiracy theories out there today, especially today, you want me to make a public appearance in a chaotic atmosphere? With all due respect, sir, are you nuts?”

  “We’ll be releasing a statement soon, but pulling you out of that event might show we’re guilty and trying to protect you.”

  “Or that you’re smart and trying to keep my band from a mob scene,” I said. “I won’t do this, Admiral. I won’t risk them over something that’s not even true.” But the look in his eyes said I had to, as part of whatever plan his PR team came up with to save face. I’d have no choice, like always. “Then what’s your half of the plan?”

  “We’re working on getting the needed clearance first. If we do, I’ll let you all know then,” Admiral Dennett said.

  “What I want to know is how all of this leaked in the first place,” I said. “If it wasn’t one of us, and it wasn’t Dave, who let this out?”

  Trevor shook his head, an action copied by everyone else in the room. He rubbed at his face and neck. “There might never be a way to know. Anything could have happened during the hijacking, and the communications buoy was off the walls during that time. On, off. On, off. Maybe even the Lemurians did it for attention, although that doesn’t really mesh with their normal M.O. Especially since it’s the one year anniversary.”

  “We’ll get to the bottom of it, I assure you,” Admiral Dennett said as he stood. “General, I’d like to speak with you a moment. Everyone else is dismissed for now.”

  General Holt nodded. “Absolutely.”

  “Please tell me you’re not going to sweep this under a rug,” Trevor said. “I know we can’t tell him or anyone else the truth, but doesn’t this sort of thing start wars?”

  The Admiral leveled him with a look. “His words were an accusation from a shakily respected archaeologist who also claims the existence of extraterrestrials. The images he has access to are incriminating, yes, but he doesn’t have the exact context of the find. His accusations are unfounded, and we can work with that.”

  “If you say so,” I mumbled. The last thing I wanted was to put my sister and the band in the crosshairs of this ridiculousness. But if General Holt and Admiral Dennett thought it was a safe idea… Politics and PR weren’t my thing.

  Guess I had to trust them.r />
  We left after that. Back to TAO, back to wasting time.

  “I don’t see how they’re going to stop that Dr. Johansson guy,” Trevor said. “Or how the Admiral doesn’t see this as a huge deal. We’ll be lucky if my parents don’t make another appearance.”

  “I can handle them,” I said. “Non-Lemurians on the other hand…”

  Trevor didn’t respond. He knew I wouldn’t go after his family if they left me alone. He also knew I wouldn’t physically harm anyone else without provocation. He stared at his phone, flipping through something. Watching his thumb slide rhythmically up and down his phone screen brought back memories of the night before, when that thumb caressed other, less appropriate things.

  I bit my lip and swallowed back the need and memory. No one was in the mood for that right now. And we were in the middle of the cafeteria. “I don’t want to think about it anymore.” Truer words had never existed.

  His thumb froze, hovering over his phone’s screen. “Shit.”

  “You know, I’m really starting to hate hearing you say that.”

  He looked up at me with startled blue eyes. “Any chance we can pretend I didn’t?”

  “No,” I reached across the table for his phone. “What now?”

  Trevor leaned back so he could keep reading and hold the phone out of reach. “Hold on.”

  “No ‘hold on.’ Tell me, Trevor.”

  His eyes met mine and he held the phone to his chest. “You really aren’t going to like it.”

  I held my hand out. “Just spill it.”

  Trevor handed it over and as I read, he said, “Looks like your friends from back home are starting to weigh in on the conspiracy theories and Dr. Johansson’s accusations.”

  My fist balled so tight I almost squished Trevor’s phone like putty. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

  I hadn’t had my phone on me all day, so I hadn’t seen. Even with a new page, a new name, my social media accounts weren’t safe. Dozens of posts had been made by friends and family, old colleagues and fellow students. Most of my family swooped in to defend me against the theories stating Trevor and I had a part in SeaSatellite5’s disappearance, but everyone else…

  Half a dozen messages were from old classmates, asking how I could participate in such a terrible military maneuver involving artifacts. My old thesis advisor didn’t comment, but she liked one of the posts. Harsh and misguided as they were, those words weren’t the worst. Those were saved for once-close friends, who weighed in on my personality over the years and my predisposition for thievery. One person’s post in particular made bile rise in my throat.

  Once a thief, always a thief. Glad to see you upgraded from stealing guys to stealing artifacts. Lovely career you got there. – xo Lexi

  I tossed Trevor’s phone onto the table. He looked stricken by the action. “Put a damn case on it, then. Besides, I would have crushed it otherwise.”

  “Chelsea…”

  I lifted my chin and forced all other reactions away. “Nope. Not gonna let this get to me. I’ve got a show to play and an idiot archaeologist trying to screw over the U.S. military to deal with first.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Actually, no. You know what?” I said, interrupting him. “I’m going to do what I want.” I stood from the table. “It’ll let me work some of my anger out, and God knows it’s better when that happens through music.” His eyes met mine and in a moment, the anger was gone. “Trevor, it’s okay.”

  “They wrote some nasty things,” he said.

  I shrugged. “Do you believe them?”

  “I know they’re not true. I don’t count.”

  I leaned across the table, hands pressed against the cool metal and hovered inches from his face. “You absolutely count. And if you don’t believe them, Sarah won’t either. Neither will Logan. And even if they did, you knowing the truth is worth everything.” I pressed a kiss to his lips, quick but thorough. “I’m just going to work off some steam. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I know so. It’s my turn to know something.”

  He smirked. “God help us all.”

  I swatted his arm and pulled away. “I love you, too.”

  Chapter Three

  I threw the pen into the air and watched it flip before catching it. Once, twice, three times. On the fourth, I missed and the pen clattered to the puke-green linoleum floor.

  “Don’t be so nervous,” Sophia said. She sat across from me backstage at the Franklin.

  A year ago, I’d sat on that couch and did Jäger bombs. A year ago, an empty whiskey bottle had sat where I was now. I’d drunk the whole thing and washed some painkillers down with it, hoping to finally break through the super-soldier anti-toxin barrier from tipsy to blissfully drunk and numb. I’d succeeded. Freddy and Trevor had carried me back to SeaSatellite5. Hours later, the station had been stolen right from our hands.

  “I’m not nervous,” I lied. According to Jeremy, Audio Striker’s lead singer, the crowd was fine. I’d swallowed my pride and asked him to scope it out for us during their set. Band rivalry or no, he seemed genuinely worried about me and my band’s safety—something both touching and slightly unsettling. Jeremy said nothing seemed out of the ordinary, which meant no crazy reporters got in, or the Admiral’s guys had already escorted them out. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

  “It’s too late now either way,” Sophia said, her Irish accent lilting around the words.

  I looked at her. Was it? We could back out, leave in seconds. But I’d made a deal with the band. I’d still sing for them despite joining TAO, even if it meant nothing but video-chat band practices. No more running, no more hiding. We’d ride this out together.

  Still, I trusted Sophia’s words. Over the last year she’d become a mentor to me as well as a good friend. And since she was also an Atlantean super soldier, meaning our ancestors were closer than anyone with Atlantean blood I’ve met before, she sometimes felt like family too. Sophia helped me grow and control my abilities, my teleportation and control of water. Thanks to her, I could now teleport pretty much wherever I had a connection to, and I knew enough martial arts to hold my own against Lemurians.

  Sophia had been at this longer than me, so I took her words and held onto them like a lifeline. “You’re probably right.”

  “Go out and do your thing. There are marines nearby in case things get out of hand, and you know I’m here if things are dangerous,” she said.

  “If shit goes down, you get them out first.” I doubted anything that bad would happen, but I needed to know she’d help my sister and the band. “I can get myself out. You help them and Trevor.”

  She nodded, though her eyes said she didn’t expect the worst to happen. “Absolutely.”

  “Hey,” Trevor said, peeking his head around the corner. “Sarah said it’s almost time.” He was backstage more for his safety than the fact that he wanted to be. Not that Trevor preferred to be in the middle of the crowd, either. He usually sat behind the safety of the half-wall separating the bar from the crowd, sipping soda or some virgin something else. I’d told him repeatedly the bar would serve him underage like they did the rest of Phoenix and Lobster, but he never took me up on the offer.

  I slapped my palms on my thighs and stood. “All right then, let’s do this.”

  Guitar in hand, I joined Sarah, Kris, and the rest of the band at the side of the stage. Jeremy introduced us—without slinging insults our way— and the crowd went insane. Cheering, whooping, and even chanting.

  “That’s new,” Kris exclaimed. Phoenix and Lobster and Audio Striker had been long-time rivals.

  “Shit, Chels. You sure about this?” Sarah asked.

  I nodded despite wanting to say “no.” “They’ve got our backs. Even Jeremy’s watching out for us. Let’s just do this. We’ve got nothing to hide. I have nothing to hide.”

  Trevor’s hand brushed mine. I turned to him. “Be careful,” he said. “And
consider whether or not you really want to sing that song about Lexi.”

  “I will.” I’d honestly almost forgotten about it in the wake of being at the Franklin and judging the crowd’s reaction.

  He kissed me to distract me from my thoughts. His kiss deepened, turned needy. His hands wandered down my arms to my hips, like he didn’t want me to go out there. Like he was worried about me. I wrapped a hand around the back of his head and pushed his lips harder to mine. I didn’t want to go, either. Didn’t want to leave my safety net with him.

  Finally, we broke apart with heavy breaths.

  “I’ll see you soon,” I told him.

  His blue eyes crinkled around the edges, but he nodded. “Break a leg.”

  We took the stage. The crowd’s energy pulsed throughout the room. Every word they screamed, every raised fist ready for music, sent adrenaline surging through me. It happened so fast, my super soldier switch almost flipped. In intense, adrenaline-filled moments, she threatened to come out, and she was so very different from me. She was precise, violent, and filled with survival-based instincts I didn’t have. Didn’t want to have. Atlantean super soldier Chelsea was scary and ruthless, and I wasn’t sure how much of normal Chelsea was in there.

  I grabbed a hold of what reality I could, swallowed down the adrenaline, and started off the set with a show-stopping song. The low notes and bass riffs guided me and I lost myself to the music and flashing lights as best I could. Sophia was watching. If she sensed something wrong, she’d let me know. Until and unless that happened, this was another normal show. The crowd was the same as any other—if not a bit more enthusiastic—and our fans did nothing but cheer happiness and excitement, and belt out their favorite lyrics. We’d never had anything to worry about at a home show, in our venue, with our fans, before. Never. Why should we now?