Chapter 1

June 28, 1984

Research facility in the Ural Mountains

For a brief moment, Alexei knew what pride was. The machine – his machine, even though Dr. Naoumov would receive most of the credit as the senior researcher – it was working. It was opening a door between worlds, a whole new frontier for the Soviet Union. Not bad work, for a man who wasn't yet forty.

And then it all came crashing down. The door was – fighting back? It sounded impossible, but he had no other explanation. The machine was still pumping out energy, far too much energy. It needed to be turned off. This test had failed. But that was Dr. Naoumov's call, and Naoumov was frozen. Alexei shot glances at him, hoping Naoumov would see what they needed to do, but nothing, and all the while the energy kept building.

And then it blew.

Alexei turned away, but he couldn't shield his ears from the screams or his nose from the burning flesh of the team members who'd believed Naoumov could keep them safe. General Stepanov put out his cigarette, as if he wished the ash tray was one of his scientists' skin, and led them down into the test room.

Alexei thought he might vomit at the sight and smell of the charred corpses, but he forced the acid back into his stomach. Stepanov strode past the bodies, almost as if he didn't see them, and slapped the rock. That wasn't the best idea, after the steady stream of radiation directed at it, but Alexei didn't dare speak.

Naoumov did. He made a valiant defense. This was progress. Which it was. They had never come this far before. But after two years, Stepanov expected something more than progress. The general gave a barely perceptible glance to the giant man who had come with him, and Naoumov was lifted off the ground, struggling for breath. Alexei took the tiniest of steps forward as Naoumov slapped uselessly at the giant's arm, then stopped. Stepanov was striding toward him, not the slightest bit disturbed by what was happening next to them. Alexei kept his eyes trained on a bare patch of floor.

"You have one year," the general said, and moved on with no time for argument.

"Of course, Comrade General," Alexei managed to whisper. Stepanov gave no indication he heard him over Naoumov choking. Why would he need to? What else could Alexei say? What could he do? Nothing. So, he stood there until Naoumov stopped struggling and the huge man dropped him. Then the giant looked at him and smirked, ever so slightly. Alexei couldn't help imagining that he was thinking the younger scientist was lighter and that his thin neck would snap with only the lightest pressure.

The remaining team gathered around Alexei after the general and his muscle had left. They stood, eyes downcast, at a slight distance, while Alexei recovered himself enough to speak. When he did, he mechanically began to give orders to put the fires out, to gather up the remains and begin identifying them, to collect any debris from the machine so he could fix it, to compile the notes of everything that had happened so they could learn. The team accepted their assignments without complaint and worked silently while he examined the machine's workings. Very little appeared damaged. It had taken out its fury on the men. He knew it wasn't truly fury, only energy, but the word felt right. He checked every component methodically, forgetting the world around him until the girl who ran the office tapped him on the shoulder. He jumped and nearly hit her.

"Comrade Medvedev, I just wondered if you wanted some breakfast?"

"It's too early for breakfast."

"No comrade. It's 0600 hours. You worked all night." Alexei shook his head in disbelief. "Some tea, at least?"

The banality of a cup of tea forced Alexei out of whatever fog he had descended into. "Get out of here," he said. "Do you have any idea how much radiation is in this room? Do you want your children to be monsters? Get out!"

She ran, without asking him why he was in the room with no protective gear. It was a serious error in his judgment, but Alexei couldn't bring himself to be upset about it. If he was going to be killed in a year, what did it matter how much radiation had soaked into his flesh? He would never marry, never raise a family, and his poor mother would be told he had died in an accident, no matter what happened. Still, it was time to remove himself.

He planned to go back to his room, but an overwhelming wave of nausea hit him, and he barely made it to the bathroom they all shared before vomiting. He tried to stand up after the first round, but immediately doubled over again as the acid forced itself from his throat. Forget breakfast or a shower. He'd be lucky if he got off the floor of the bathroom that day. He sunk down and rested his cheek on the toilet seat.

Alexei had no idea how long he stayed that way. He didn't remember anything until he woke up in his room, shivering and drenched in sweat. He started to sit up, but the pounding in his head forced him back down. The girl rushed over and told him to lay back, then handed him a glass of sweetened tea.

"The doctor said you had the flu," she said. "You need to rest for a few days."

He had no idea if she truly didn't understand what had happened, or if she knew that radiation sickness was unacceptable and decided to play along. He decided he didn't care. No good could come from speaking the truth. He accepted the tea and laid back down.

"You said something strange earlier," she said, and Alexei felt as if his heart had stopped. He had no memory of saying anything. "You said we're digging in the wrong place. Like we were looking for buried treasure."

"The wrong place? Did I say anything else?"

"Something about a wound that hadn't healed. It didn't make any sense."

"Of course. It must have been the fever."

"Yes, comrade, I think it was." She nodded politely and left. Alexei laid back down and mulled it over. Digging in the wrong place – that meant something. He just needed to figure out what before he ran out of time.