Day One

by Kelly deVos

  He’s taller than he looks on TV.

  MacKenna’s mouth hangs open.

  We’re in what basically looks like a glass box surrounded by dark, black water on all sides. Tracks of lights hang from the ceiling, giving the room a warm, familiar feel.

  David Rosenthal could film a campaign ad any minute. He’s neat, clean, with perfectly pressed slacks and combed hair. Unlike us. We look like we’ve been crawling through a storm drain or something.

  I’m meeting the well...sort of president...and I smell like BO and fish and vomit.

  I press my arms into my sides, hoping he won’t notice me.

  Rosenthal stares at me for an instant before speaking to the general. “At ease, old friend.”

  Copeland’s troops fall into a more relaxed stance.

  Rosenthal steps forward to shake the general’s hand. “Glad to have you on board.”

  Copeland smiles. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “No, I suppose not.” Rosenthal glances from face to face. “Well, I’ll start the introductions. I’m David Rosenthal, of course,” he says with a politician’s careful smile.

  The general introduces his team of soldiers next, including Jo and finishing with, “This is Toby Novak, Colonel Novak’s son. He’s a new recruit.”

  Toby shakes Rosenthal’s hand. He and MacKenna wear matching facial expressions, both staring in awe at their hero. Terminus might throw up again.

  Rosenthal turns to me. “You’re obviously Miss Marshall. I only met your father on one occasion. But his reputation lives on. My condolences. And now the issue with your mother, well, it’s one hell of a situation.” He smiles while shaking my hand and patting me lightly on the upper arm.

  Copeland points to MacKenna. “This is Novak’s daughter. She’s quite a fan.”

  MacKenna waves. “Everyone’s for Rosenthal.” Her face turns red.

  “I appreciate the support,” Rosenthal says. His gaze lands on Navarro, who’s behind me, hovering in the submarine doorway.

  But Copeland continues the introductions. “Harold Partridge,” he says with a gesture.

  Rosenthal actually laughs. “Right. Terminus, isn’t it? I can’t say I appreciated it when you hacked the State of New York’s database and gave my personal cell phone number out as the hotline to report portable toilet outages. But bygones, I suppose.”

  Terminus stares at the shiny floor.

  Rosenthal’s smile fades. “And last but not least, Gustavo Navarro. Well, well. Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows, eh, Harlan.”

  “Something like that, sir,” Copeland answers.

  Rosenthal knows Navarro?

  Navarro is wearing an expression that seems oddly frightened. I try to get his attention, but he stubbornly refuses to look at me.

  Something’s wrong. I resist the urge to wipe the little beads of sweat forming at my hairline. Whatever scares Navarro terrifies the absolute hell out of me.

  “Okay, let’s start the tour,” Rosenthal says. He’s pretty chipper considering The Opposition just killed millions of his supporters and destroyed his California stronghold. He gestures at the glass walls. “This is what’s called the Moon Room. It’s the main point of entry but can also be used as an observation area. When we turn on the exterior lights, you can actually get a very nice view of the sea life down here. But we’re keeping the lights off in the interest of good security.”

  Rosenthal opens a door opposite the submarine, leading us into a huge, wood-paneled room. It’s a break area. There are Ping-Pong tables, vending machines and comfy sofas placed strategically in a way that’s designed to allow small groups of people to relax. “Welcome to DS-SEALAB XVI. It was designed to be a long-term research facility for the navy. It’s a fairly unique station in that it can generate power and breathable air for a month without being resupplied.”

  In the center of the room, a few people in dark blue jumpsuits watch a television that’s tuned to a presidential press conference. Ammon Carver’s face fills the screen.

  Carver begins to speak in his gravelly voice.

  “Three hours ago, a federal airplane dropped one bomb on the city of Los Angeles, California. This bomb was one thousand times more powerful than the weapons phased out as part of our participation in the Nuclear Weapons Ban Treaty. It was ten thousand times more powerful than the bomb dropped on Hiroshima, which was the largest bomb used in the history of warfare.”

  MacKenna blurts out, “They killed everyone in California!”

  Rosenthal’s face shifts to a look of sympathy. “In Southern California, yes, I’m afraid so. The Opposition has certainly shown the world what they’re capable of.”

  What they’re capable of.

  What about what we’re capable of?

  I know I should keep my mouth closed, but I can’t. “Don’t you think you should have tried to stop them?”

  Rosenthal glances at Navarro. “We did, young lady. We recruited your father for that purpose, in fact. But his efforts weren’t as successful as we might have hoped. So here we are.”

  That last bit comes across sort of...menacing.

  MacKenna looks confused.

  We continue our trek across the break room.

  On TV, Carver drones on. He’s wearing his blue suit and red tie. Same as always.

  “With this, my fellow Americans, I regret to inform you that the Second Civil War has begun. The Spark began this war with an act of defiance designed to destroy and destabilize American unity and union. That rebellion has now been answered in full. The deployment of the world’s first cold fusion bomb serves first to quash the treason in our midst and then as a warning to other nations who might be tempted to view current events as a sign of weakness. The United States is, was, and will remain the most powerful nation on this earth.”

  We follow Rosenthal and he goes left across the break room, opening a door and going into a white hallway. It’s glossy and smooth and belongs in a space station. But here, too, everything has a comfortable yellow light. He continues his tour. “Carver wasn’t briefed on SEALAB’s existence until late in January, which gave us enough time to take control of it.”

  The door to the break room behind us has shut, but Carver’s voice continues to play on the station’s speaker system. “We’re monitoring communications from the mainland,” Rosenthal says, explaining the noise. “It’s quiet in my office. We’ll be able to talk there.”

  “Top scientists have long theorized that cold fusion was an untapped source of unspeakable power. But that power remained elusive. Meanwhile, The Opposition, who objected to the elimination of nuclear weapons, were convinced that the nation was unprepared for modern war. We spearheaded Project Cold Front, a secret effort to find weaponry to replace our nuclear arsenal.”

  An ache builds in the back of my throat. Dad had clearly found out about the cold fusion bomb and been scared into leaving The Opposition and helping The Spark.

  We continue walking with Rosenthal pointing out various doors. Storage. Research library. Various laboratories. We come to a smooth white door with a man in a full suit pacing in front of it. “Harlan, you probably remember Brian, my chief of staff. He can help you get your people settled and then show you to your private quarters. We’ll meet for a drink when you’ve had time to relax.”

  I wave shaky fingers at Toby. He doesn’t even bother to say goodbye to us as he leaves with Copeland.

  Terminus has to grab MacKenna’s elbow to stop her from going after them.

  We resume walking and come to a large glass window. It’s a room filled with workstations and huge glass monitors. Several people are at work, tapping on keyboards and pressing animated touch screens. “This will interest you, Miss Marshall,” Rosenthal says. “This is the main computer control station and it...” He drones on about the makes of the computers, their processing power and their ab
ility to monitor our biometrics even as we move about the habitat. But something else catches my attention. One of the monitors is tuned to the press conference. For a minute, two video loops replace Carver’s face.

  One was that stock video of my dad shaking Carver’s hand.

  And the other.

  Is Gus. Or at least what Navarro will look like in twenty years. It’s footage of a man who could be Navarro’s father, leaning over a microscope in a white lab coat.

  Navarro still won’t look at me.

  Carver’s audio continues.

  “A team of researchers led by Dr. Peter Navarro and our own hero, Dr. Maxwell Marshall, worked feverishly at military bases in Phoenix, Arizona, Santa Fe, New Mexico, and Portland, Oregon, developing a new technique that fuses deuterium with palladium metal to produce the most powerful weapon the world has ever witnessed.”

  Peter Navarro.

  I’m heavy and frozen in a stony state of shock.

  “The cold fusion bomb has laid to waste anything within two hundred miles of the blast radius, including the cities of Los Angeles, San Diego, Riverside and Palm Springs, with the zone of destruction extending as far north as San Luis Obispo. As a preemptive measure, The Opposition successfully evacuated the small communities living in western Arizona and southwestern Nevada. While these areas may experience some adverse weather conditions in the coming weeks, we believe that they will largely be unaffected by the effects of the cold fusion process.”

  But.

  Peter Navarro?

  I grab Navarro’s arm and force him to look at me. “You told me your father sold restaurant supply equipment!” I say in a whisper.

  His brown eyes plead with me. “He did! When he first came to this country, he had a restaurant supply business while he went to school.”

  “The new technology created by Doctors Navarro and Marshall does not utilize radioactive material and, as such, rebuilding efforts in California can begin at the conclusion of this terrible conflict.”

  Rosenthal is still giving the tour, mostly to Terminus, who is the only one really listening. “And here are the researcher dormitories. You’ve all been assigned rooms for tonight...”

  Navarro, MacKenna and I have fallen back a few feet.

  “So what? He’s actually some kind of scientist?” MacKenna whispers.

  “An electrochemist,” Navarro says in a defeated tone.

  “In the coming months and years, there are, no doubt, those who will question my decision, my motives and even my patriotism. There is no denying that the number of casualties in California is high. Our own estimates put the death toll at nearly thirty-five million. Millions of lives lost in an unnecessary war brought forth on our own soil by The Spark. While I am deeply saddened by this turn of events, I can only say that I felt called by a higher power to act in defending the world’s oldest democracy by whatever means necessary.”

  We arrive at a fork in the hallway. “The kitchen and dining areas are that way,” Rosenthal says, pointing left.

  The betrayal hits me like a slap. “You lied to me!” I whisper through clenched teeth.

  Navarro was the one person who had never lied to me.

  “There are those who will say that I had other options. That many of the people who forfeited their lives were innocent of any blame. I pray for each soul, but I firmly believe that their sacrifice was made in the interest of ensuring that our people, our freedom and our way of life will endure.”

  Rosenthal points to the right, “My office is this way.”

  Navarro shakes his head. “I did not lie.”

  “You said you came here for me,” I tell him, a curious pang twisting through my chest. Only me.

  Navarro stops and puts one of his hands on each of my shoulders. I’m almost lost in his brown eyes. “I did. I gave up my future, risked my life. Risked everything. For you.”

  “While we have now won the battles of science and technology, the rebellion of The Spark and David Rosenthal continues. We have learned that The Spark, working in conjunction with known terrorist Jesen Oscar Novak, plans ongoing military operations in a number of areas with their ultimate goal to topple the lawful government of our United States and replace it with a non-Democratic one headed by Mr. Rosenthal.”

  “My father is not involved in this,” MacKenna says, shaking her fist at the speaker mounted near the ceiling.

  Terminus turns and gives her a look. A look that says maybe Jay is involved.

  The numbness continues to spread over me.

  “We demand the immediate surrender of the State of California and of all armed forces currently reporting to The Spark. Anyone who surrenders voluntarily will be shown some measure of mercy. We demand the full and unconditional surrender of David Rosenthal, General Harlan Copeland and terrorist-at-large Jesen Oscar Novak. Additionally, all party affiliates of The Spark will report to a processing station in their area.”

  Navarro moves his face very close to mine, forcing me to stare right into his deep brown eyes. “I thought you of all people would understand how it feels to be defined by the choices of other people.” He rubs my cheek with the tip of his thumb, leaving a warm trail behind.

  “If these demands are not met within twenty-four hours, the federal government will have no choice but to make additional use of the cold fusion bomb. San Francisco is our next identified target. To David Rosenthal, I say surrender or prepare for annihilation.”

  Rosenthal places his hand on a trackpad mounted to the wall of a door that blends in remarkably well with the hallway. It clicks open. “And here we go.”

  If Rosenthal has a reaction to the news that Carver plans to pulverize Northern California to match Southern California, he doesn’t show it. He remains polished and pleasant. Carver’s voice continues to echo in the hall.

  “Our response to the Second Civil War must be swift. Action must be immediate. We can and will do whatever is necessary to ensure that government of the people, by the people, for the people will live on.”

  I fight off a shiver.

  We enter into a room that is an almost perfect replica of a government office. There’s a massive mahogany desk, a red leather chesterfield sofa, bookcases with law books and old war reference manuals lining the walls, and even an oriental rug on the floor.

  How do you get this stuff to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean?

  David Rosenthal closes the door behind us, and it is quiet in this room. He gestures for us to sit at a circular table. There are only four chairs. Navarro stands behind me with his hands on the back of my chair. I wish I could see his face. I wish I could know what he is feeling.

  “No doubt, you’re all eager for a bit of downtime to refresh. However, I think it’s wise if we get some of the basics out of the way at this point.” Rosenthal isn’t going to leave us to wonder about the basics for long, because he adds, “General Copeland tells me that you’re in possession of some data that would repair whatever is wrong with the computers at the First Federal Bank.”

  It seems strange to be talking to the man who was elected president like we’re equals. To be sitting with him at a table.

  Everyone’s for Rosenthal?

  “Well...um...” I begin. I can feel my face getting hot. Terminus sits to my right and nods in encouragement. “My father encrypted all of the data on the bank’s mainframe. He made the data inaccessible, unless you have a code block, a kind of key, that decrypts the data. We were able to assemble the key and place it on a disk drive.” I unzip the pack around my waste and remove the small black drive.

  Rosenthal holds out his hand.

  I hesitate and turn to MacKenna.

  This is our leverage. Our last hope of getting Charles back.

  “Give it to him,” she says.

  I drop the device into Rosenthal’s palm.

  “And using the code on th
is drive, you could fully restore the First Federal systems?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “All of them?” he clarifies.

  “The data would be current as of when the computers crashed,” I say.

  “So all the data as of January? Did Marshall make any copies of this?” Rosenthal asks.

  “Dr. Marshall didn’t even make that one,” Navarro says in a cold voice. “Susan did.”

  Rosenthal gives Navarro a bland smile. “And, Susan, did you make any copies?”

  I shake my head. And I hope it was a gamble that will pay off. I’ve been hyperfixated on the notion that someone will steal the code and take away my leverage to get my brother back.

  Even though Dad said, Always have a backup.

  Panic is settling somewhere inside of me.

  Rosenthal drops the drive on the red patterned rug.

  He stares at it, as if he’s wondering whether he ought to pick it up.

  Instead, he stands and steps on the device with the heel of his black leather shoe.

  Never meet your heroes lest they disappoint you. That’s what people say. Of course, it’s always possible that reality won’t align with imagination. But when we make choices about who we love or who we follow, we expose our own character. What do you do when you look down and it’s your own feet that are made of clay?

  —MacKENNA NOVAK,

  Letters from the Second Civil War

  MacKENNA

  “Jesus Christ! What the hell are you doing?” Navarro says.

  Jinx is on the ground collecting the tiny pieces of the disk drive. Picking them out of the carpet. “Um...um...maybe we can fix it...somehow...”

  Terminus is down there too. “With what? Magic glue?”

  “How am I going to get my brother back now?” Jinx mumbles.

  Navarro paces around. “I told you not to trust him!”

  He addresses this comment to me, and I address myself to Rosenthal.

  “Mr....President... Rosenthal...why did you do that?” I stand up.

  “Because it’s my job,” Rosenthal answers sharply. All his friendliness has vanished.