Darkness Falls

Darkness Falls by Kyle Mills Read Free Book Online

Book: Darkness Falls by Kyle Mills Read Free Book Online
Authors: Kyle Mills
that he, too, was feeling a little queasy -- but not for the same reason. Just being back in Alaska was enough -- the strangely unique feel of the cold, the empty scent of the air. This was where he and Jenna had spent some of their happiest times, but now those memories mocked him with the absolute certainty that they'd never be repeated. Even worse, it looked as if he was about to replay his brief and incredibly self-destructive stint with the energy companies. Outstanding.
    The plane's skis touched down and he glanced over at Beamon. His eyes were tightly closed, but he wasn't actually praying -- at least not out loud. Erin shut down the engine and Beamon immediately threw open the door and dove out.
    "You made it!" Steve Andropolous shouted as Erin dropped to the snow and retrieved his duffle from the back. "I wasn't sure you'd come."
    He thumbed at Beamon, who was teetering around as though he'd never felt solid ground before, but was still holding down that stubborn lunch. "Didn't have a hell of a lot of choice."
    "But did they tell you? It's the same bacteria." He grabbed Erin's arm, dragging him along. "My mind's officially blown, man. I mean seriously, do you have any ideas on this? It's freakin' me out."
    "Have you checked their data, Steve? This doesn't make a lot of sense to me."
    "No mistakes, dude. You wouldn't believe the shit you can get done when the oil companies and the government are with you instead of against you. We've already done a full genetic profile of both the Saudi and Alaskan bacteria. They're exactly the same."
    "So what's the verdict, then?" Beamon said, his breath coming out a thick fog as he caught up to them.
    Andropolous shot the man a nervous glance, but didn't answer. It was a trait Erin had found infuriating when they'd worked together -- Stevie hated delivering bad news and, if given the choice, would just remain silent.
    "Spit it out," Erin said.
    "Uh, yeah. This well's offline basically it's a rerun of one you worked on in Ghawar."
    "What about the other wells you tested?" Beamon said. "What did those samples show?"
    "You're not going to believe it, man. More than seventy percent of them are showing at least trace infestation."
    "Jesus Christ," Beamon said, putting a gloved hand to his face and wiping at the sweat that was already starting to freeze. "Why the hell am I just hearing this now?"
    "The satellite's out! There's no way I could contact anyone. And with all this secrecy shit . . ."
    Erin threw an arm around Andropolous's shoulders. "Relax, Steve. What would a bunch of politicians and FBI guys do with that information other than go out and short a bunch of oil stock in their IRAs?"
    Beamon ignored the insult. "Look, you've been clear on how you feel about drilling here, and I'm sure you're enjoying the hell out of all this, but for your own good I suggest you start taking the situation a little more seriously."
    "Are you threatening me, Mark? Because if so --"
    "I'm not fucking threatening you. What I'm saying is that if you just forget about the hundreds of millions of dollars invested here, the incredible political costs of getting drilling in the wilderness approved in the first place, and the billions the energy companies expected to make here, it's still one of the country's biggest oil reserves. And that's a national security issue something a lot of very powerful people don't have much of a sense of humor about."
    "The bacterial loads aren't high enough to bring down production in most of the other wells," Andropolous interjected hopefully, then looked at his boots. "Yet."
    "Yet?" Beamon said, working to keep his voice even. "Could you define yet, please?"
    Andropolous pushed through the door of a trailer and Erin followed, peeling off his jacket and feeling the warmth soak painfully into his bruised, sunburned, and now half-frozen skin.
    The trailer was a typical wreck, just like he remembered from the old days: card tables covered in papers, an old sofa with the

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