Surprised, Smith leaned back smiling and shaking his head.
Josh heard the SEAL Commander say on the radio that they were sending a critical casualty down by helicopter. The SEAL medic came back and took over. He sprayed the wound, put on a pressure bandage and gave him some type of shot.
Josh had the metallic taste of blood in his mouth ... not a good sign. He began to feel fuzzy and disconnected. He had been here before. For him, the mission was over. He felt completely at peace for the first time since his return. He could finally let go....
As they loaded the stretcher into the helicopter, it was too loud for the SEAL Commander to talk over the engines. He caught the medic’s eye. The medic understood the unspoken question, and glancing briefly at the unconscious body on the stretcher, he shook his head.
53
IMPACT
Three hours after the Blaster fired, a Marine V-22 Osprey landed on the ice near the C-17. It offloaded a small Marine recon team. Twenty minutes later, it was airborne again, flying at its maximum speed through the Antarctic night. After taking on fuel from an airborne tanker, it continued on to a stormy ocean rendezvous.
Europe
With 24-hour news networks, social media and smart phones, few in Europe weren’t looking skyward as the meteoroid entered the atmosphere. It created a beautiful white-orange streak as bright as the sun. Two-hundred times faster than the speed of sound, it crossed Germany and the Netherlands in twenty seconds. The intense heat and violent deceleration finally overcame the building-sized iceberg. At 30,000 feet, 500 kilometers west of London, it exploded with the power of a 10-megaton bomb. The detonation echoed across Europe.
The Tunguska-sized blast damaged ships that couldn’t move fast enough. The shockwave pushed the giant vessels like sailboats in a Category 5 hurricane, almost capsizing them. It created 10-foot-high tsunamis that inundated coastlines from Ireland to Spain and crossed the Atlantic to the United States. The damage would exceed hundreds of millions, but the advanced warning saved tens of thousands of lives.
Atlantic
She awoke and found herself lying in a small bed in a tiny but nicely trimmed cabin. Someone must have carried her there.
She got up, peered out the window and saw nothing but ocean through the clouds far below. A clock on the wall said 9:30. She went to the door she thought pointed to the front of the jet and cracked it slightly. Peeking out, she saw the two agents sitting in chairs. The woman was working on a laptop, and the man was talking quietly on a phone connected to the wall. The flight attendant was working in the forward galley. She went to the back door of the cabin and found a small, well-equipped bathroom. It even had a little shower. She now understood the term “sweating the information out of someone.” She felt very grubby, and the mirror confirmed it. With their altitude, she thought she had time before they landed. In all of her travel fantasies, she never dreamed of showering at 40,000 feet.
They had placed her bag and clothes in the cabin. After a quick shower, she dressed and put on some basic make-up. She felt much better and realized she was starving. Tentatively, she opened the door to the main cabin and came out. The female agent smiled and called to the flight attendant, who asked her what she wanted for breakfast.
“Whatever’s easiest and fastest. I could eat anything right now.”
The flight attendant winked as she handed her a large, warm sticky bun and a cup of coffee.
Elizabeth sat down at one of the small tables.
The female agent came over and said very politely, “Ms. Edvardsen, I think you may want to check out the news.” She swiveled one of the flat screen monitors toward her and gave her the remote control.
Elizabeth scanned through to find a news channel. It wasn’t hard. It appeared this TV only carried news. Then she realized that breaking news had preempted every channel. She stopped at the news network she usually watched.
The flight attendant put a large, hot omelet in front of her.
She realized that between the interrogation and sleep, she lost an entire day. Apparently, she was coming in late to something everyone else already knew.
As it began to sink in, she clapped her hands over her mouth in excitement, tears in her eyes. Someone deflected a meteoroid bound for London. It landed in the Atlantic, saving hundreds of thousands of lives. Details were still coming in, but it was clear a secret base at the South Pole had hit the comet with some type of energy beam. As if that weren’t enough, there was a bigger story. There was a “mother” to this meteoroid. Detected much farther out, it also appeared to be on a collision course with the earth.
Elizabeth asked how soon they’d be landing.
The female agent said, “In about two hours, ma’am, but there’s been a slight change of plans. We’ll be transferring you to another aircraft for the final flight.”
“Final flight? Where to? Is that where Josh is?”
Elizabeth saw the two agents exchange a quick glance. Both looked uncomfortable. The male agent said quickly, “I’m sorry, ma’am; they’ll explain it all to you when you arrive.” He changed the subject to the weather in the Falklands.
She could tell there was something they weren’t telling her but decided not to press it. She was elated that she and Josh had been totally vindicated. She wanted to do a victory dance and yell repeatedly, “I told you so!” but she would be a gracious winner. They probably already felt bad enough.
Antarctic Ocean
In the heavy rain and late morning twilight, the V-22 transitioned to vertical landing mode. With limited visibility and large ocean swells, the tired Marine pilot struggled to match his aircraft to the motion of the pitching deck. As he skillfully and firmly set the aircraft down, a crew rushed out in the driving rain to take the critical cargo.
Falklands
Elizabeth watched through the window as they landed in the Falklands. Heavily overcast, it was windy and cool as she stepped through the jet’s door. They gave her an FBI windbreaker to wear. As she came down the steps, directly in front of her was a stubby, gray, twin-engine turboprop. It looked like a caricature of an airliner, an airliner designed by a committee, and considering its size, a committee that ran out of money. It was truly an ugly duckling compared to the sleek business jet she was leaving. On its side, it proudly wore “United States Navy” with “VRC-30” on the tail. The male agent, seeing her expression, reassured her. He said that although the Cod looked funny, it was only because it landed on aircraft carriers.
“Aircraft carriers?” This was getting stranger and stranger.
Misunderstanding her question, he told her it was one of the safest carrier-capable airplanes.
She suspected, “safe” and “carrier” was an oxymoron, but didn’t care as long as it was taking her to Josh. The male agent — she still couldn’t remember his name — accompanied her onboard the Navy aircraft. She sat in a rather makeshift-looking seat. A young woman in a flight suit gave her a quick safety brief and handed her a vest and soft helmet with a headset. The vest, with its integrated inflatable life preserver, didn’t instill a lot of confidence. They told her it would be a three-hour flight. As the engines started, she understood why she wore the helmet.
Washington D.C.
The press grilled the world’s leading astrophysicists in a huge video conference. The scientists reinforced each other, telling similar stories. They confirmed the comet’s existence and estimated its size and trajectory. Without intervention, the world was scheduled to end in 11 months on March 21 at 10:00 am Greenwich Mean Time.
Antarctic Ocean
The surgical suite was located near the center of the ship, both to protect it from battle damage and because the ship’s motion was muted near its center of gravity. Despite the ship’s size and the Captain’s attempts to maneuver it to reduce motion, the raging cyclone rocked the operating room like a cradle. The surgeon, however, had years of experience treating combat casualties from Afghanistan to the inner city of Los Angeles.
T
hey had been in surgery for four hours. The surgeon knew too much time had elapsed before they could operate. The medics had chilled the patient’s body during the long transport, but with the severity of the wounds, her patient’s survival prospects were almost zero.
The anesthesiologist said, “His blood pressure’s dropping.”
The surgeon said, “We’re almost finished.”
“He’s 60 over 40. I’ve already pushed five units. He’s not responding to the drugs anymore.”
“I can’t stop here. Do what you can.”
They both heard the cardiac monitor tone change.
The anesthesiologist shook his head. “He’s tachycardic. We’re losing him.”
The aircraft was small enough that she could see into the cockpit and out the aircraft’s windshield. As they descended, it was easy to identify the aircraft carrier, even in the late afternoon twilight. It was the largest ship of a small flotilla, all headed in the same direction. As they made their approach, all she could think of was, there’s no way they’re going to get this thing on that. Getting closer, she could actually see the ship moving in the rough seas, and began to realize how big the carrier really was, but it still didn’t look big enough to land on.
The little turbo prop touched down hard and went from 120 miles per hour to a dead stop in 200 feet. To Elizabeth, it felt like a crash landing.
As the engines shutdown, a Petty Officer from the ship came onboard to escort her. Over the jet noise, he yelled, “Please follow me very closely until we’re off the flight deck and inside the ship.”
As she stepped off the aircraft and glanced around, she understood why. It was total chaos, or at least appeared that way. There were dozens of jets all around her. Some taxing, some parked just inches apart. One jet sat on the catapult at full power. She was mystified how they kept from running into each other. It was also loud. No, it was beyond loud. Her stomach and spine felt the rumble of afterburners from the fighter 100 feet away. There was a pervasive smell of jet exhaust, tinged with sea air. The steel deck she walked on looked like the skin of an avocado, dark and rough with a bit of an oily sheen. What amazed her was that all of these sights, sounds and smells were taking place in the middle of the Antarctic Ocean in an area the size of a parking lot.
As she tried to follow her Navy escort, she felt the motion of the ship and had to compensate constantly just to walk. The 20-knot wind added to the challenge, and her light clothes and windbreaker did little to stop the arctic chill.
Once inside, with the large metal hatch closed, it was like stepping into another world. She removed her helmet and vest, and along with her FBI escort, followed a Navy Commander in khakis. They walked through a metal maze of passageways, hatches and ladder wells. She had a good sense of direction but knew she’d never find her way back without help. They finally brought her to a nicer looking part of the ship with wider passageways and shiny blue linoleum with stars. Her Navy escort took her to a locked door, entered a button combination in a small box on the wall and opened it. Inside was a small conventional-looking conference room. Her escort motioned her to enter, but stayed outside. He said, “Would you please wait here, ma’am. There’s coffee on the table, and someone will be joining you shortly.”
She nodded and went inside. She could still feel the ship gently rocking and rolling. It had to be rough out there to move something this big. She carefully poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down to wait.
Netherworld
Josh was back in the netherworld. He wasn’t frightened this time. Sensing Jesse’s presence, he asked, “Did we do it? Did we save London?”
Yes.
“Awesome!” Tentatively, Josh said, “I toasted another body, didn’t I?”
Your body is dying.
“I’m not going to get another one, am I?”
No.
“Thank you for giving me another chance and saving our collective butts. I guess this is the end of our journey together.”
Our journey is just beginning.
Josh’s shadowy netherworld faded for the last time.
54
DÉJÀ VU
He tried to focus his eyes. It took a while, but when he could finally see clearly, it was white acoustic ceiling tiles again. Unlike last time, he felt a rocking motion and smelled the faint background odor of hydraulic fluid and jet fuel mixed with a tinge of methane. Josh recognized it instantly. It was like being home. He was onboard a ship, almost certainly an aircraft carrier.
He looked sideways and saw the familiar IV bag and EKG leads. He could also feel a small plastic tube blowing oxygen in his nose. He started to prop himself up, but his stomach immediately let him know that was a bad idea. He felt like someone ran over him with a truck and punched him in the stomach for good measure. His head pounded, and he was very queasy. Despite that, he was in a great mood. He was alive, and they had proved it was possible to deflect a comet!
The biggest challenge was ahead, but the secret was out and his part was over. It really didn’t matter what happened to him now. He knew that if he survived, which was questionable, his best possible prospect was life in prison, but he could deal with that knowing he’d done everything he could.
A doctor came in to check his vitals and look at the wound, asking the usual questions about how he was feeling and if he needed any more pain medication. He felt pain, but it was bearable and he didn’t want to cloud his mind. He was just savoring being alive. Josh noticed the doctor’s nametag. He was a Lieutenant Commander. Appropriate, he thought wryly. Shot by a Lieutenant Commander, and now another one had to fix him up. He also noticed the command pin on the nametag was USS Reagan. He’d done carrier qualifications onboard the Reagan.
The doctors and medical corpsman were polite and attentive, but left quickly and didn’t talk. He also noticed an armed Marine in fatigues standing outside his room.
Within a few minutes, he had visitors. While he was recruiting his team, Josh had done his homework on who was who at the major federal agencies. He immediately recognized the Deputy Director of the CIA. Two serious looking, plain-clothed agents flanked him a few paces behind. They kept Josh in their view. He wondered if they thought he’d try to attack them with an IV bag.
The Deputy started by saying, “Sorry about shooting you, but it looks like you’re doing remarkably well considering.”
Josh smiled. “Apology accepted.”
“Do you know who I am?”
“Deputy Director of the CIA Brian Davidson.”
“Actually, Acting Director.”
Josh frowned. “What happened to the Director?”
Davidson gave him a half smile and said quietly, “You did.” He turned to the agents behind him and asked if they would please wait outside. They looked a little surprised, but complied. He continued, “Buster is retiring due to ... health issues brought on by ... job stress.”
“Sorry about that.”
Davidson didn’t smile. “Don’t be. He wasn’t cut out for the job. Now that we’ve established who I am, do you mind telling me who you are?”
“Who do you think I am?”
“Please don’t answer my question with questions. Who do you work for?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“What?” He smiled. “Extraterrestrials?”
“Do you believe in extraterrestrials?”
Davidson smiled. “There you go again.” He paused. “Josh ... by the way, is that really your name?”
“Yes, actually it is.”
“That thing you built near the South Pole did in fact give the meteoroid enough of a nudge. It missed London and hit the Atlantic — spectacularly — but with only a few lives lost. We need to thank you for saving a city and hundreds of thousands of lives. I’m just glad it’s over.”
Josh said, “It’s just beginning.”
“Yeah, we know. They’ve identified the fragment’s mother and plotted her trajectory. It looks like we’re right in the crossh
airs as you predicted. The entire world knows now.” He paused. “That doesn’t answer the question of who you are or who you work for. There’s no record of you existing prior to Kansas City Medical Center. We’ve looked hard, very hard. After 9/11, it’s almost impossible to escape detection. All we can say for sure is who you’re not. You don’t belong to any government organization, yet you have the knowledge of several.”
“Kind of bold to say you know the membership of every government organization.”
Davidson continued matter-of-factly, “Not really, that’s my job. The only organizations that can make someone invisible, I’m a member of or in close contact with.” He frowned. “It’s not just that. You have information that shouldn’t be possible. According to our experts, nothing can detect a dark comet as far out as you did. On top of that, your medical records from Kansas say you have perfect health ... too perfect. They’ve never come across a specimen like you, no fillings, inoculations or scars.”
Glancing down at his stomach, Josh said, “No scars?” Looking back up, he said, “So, you think I’m an alien?”
“No. While in surgery, they poked around inside enough to know you’re human, not that they wouldn’t have wanted to dissect you if you hadn’t made it.”
Josh raised his eyebrows at that comment. “So, what’s your theory?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. If you told me you were psychic or working for little green men, I’m not sure I’d question it.”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it does!”
“Why?”
“How are we to handle you?”
“You think I need to be handled?”
Davidson frowned, but didn’t answer.
Impact (Fuzed Trilogy Book 1) Page 34