Instinct: A Chess Team Adventure - By Jeremy Robinson Page 0,87

Weston said with a smile.

King grinned. “This isn’t the first time.”

Weston laughed and stretched out his arms as though to embrace the air. “And yet, here you are! Very good . . . very good . . . Do you mind me asking why it is you are here?”

King didn’t speak. Sara followed his lead when Weston looked to her for the answer.

“This isn’t an interrogation,” Weston said. “I’m not a soldier.”

The silence continued.

“Perhaps something is not right in the world?” Weston asked. “Perhaps you thought the solution could be found here? In the Annamites. We have listened to the Vietnamese soldiers. Heard them talking about a cure for something that originated here. And you are here for the same reason.”

King directed a cold stare at Weston.

“Tell me,” Weston said. “Which one of you is the scientist?”

Weston looked at King, amused by his harsh glare. “Certainly not you.” He looked at Sara and shuffled over, never rising from his squat, like a lazy gorilla. He squeezed her arm gently.

Sara pulled away. “Get the hell away from me.”

Weston laughed and hobbled back to his place by the crackling fire. “You’re the scientist. Too soft and delicate for a soldier.”

King never flinched and his voice held its typical cool tone. “What do you know about the Brugada syndrome?”

Weston’s eyebrows rose and he smiled widely. “Is that what they’re calling it? Sounds ominous.”

“It is ominous,” King said. There was obviously no reason to hold back. Weston knew something and it seemed only total honesty would pry it free.

Weston rocked on his feet. “How many are dead?”

King tried to shrug but his bound arms barely moved. “Not many.”

“We became aware of it at an early stage,” Sara chimed in.

Weston looked confused. “I’m not sure I understand. A few people die and the U.S. Special Forces invades a foreign country for the cure?”

“One of the first people to contract the disease is a public figure,” Sara said.

“Is a public figure? Not was? This person survived?” Weston leaned forward, his interest rising. “Who was it?”

“The president,” King said.

Weston nearly fell over with surprise. “Of the United States?”

King nodded. “Which is why we’re here.”

“Of course, it makes sense now.” Weston calmed and said, “But how did it reach the president? Surely he doesn’t moonlight in the jungles of Vietnam.”

“Brugada has been weaponized,” King said. “Someone tried to assassinate him.”

“And it’s contagious, piggybacking on a bird flu,” Sara added. “We managed to contain the outbreak by quarantining hundreds of people, including the president and most of the White House staff. But next time we might not catch it in time.”

“You know what it is, don’t you?” King asked.

Weston looked at the stone floor of the cave and rubbed his bare foot across it. “People have been dying from the sudden death in this region for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years. It kills villagers every year. And it wiped out the male population of the Nguoi Rung. The old mothers are all that are left.” He looked up. “What makes you think there is a cure?”

“We know the original strain of Brugada originated in this area. The new strain most likely did, too. Who are the Nguoi Rung?”

“You’ll find out soon enough. What about this new strain?” Weston asked.

“The original strain is a genetic defect passed down through generations,” Sara explained. “Thanks to a mutation, it is now contagious and death comes within a week. It could wipe out the entire human population on Earth. Including you. And whoever else lives here with you.”

Weston pounded a fist against his chest, displaying his virility. “And yet, here I am. Exposed at the source, and alive and well. Perhaps you’ve come to the wrong place?”

Sara glared at him. “This is the right place, and you know that, don’t you?”

Weston’s smile faded some. “You may not understand my position. To you, I’m a freak. My people are monsters—animals you wouldn’t think twice about destroying. Abominations. I see the fear in human eyes when they see them. And I am all that stands between them and the outside world. Between a culture older than humanity and destruction. You may be seeking to save human civilization, but I’m trying to save my . . .” His voice quivered with true emotion. “. . . my family. My children.” He stood and walked behind a large rock. He bent down and came back up holding Sara’s backpack.

She gasped.

Weston sat down and opened the backpack. He pulled out the laptop and set it down on the