Click, clock.
“Bobby! Turn it down!”
It was no good, she would sit here all night staring at a blank sheet of paper if she had to. She had to hand in something tomorrow. OK, so fairies it is. Lame, but it will have to do. It was coming up to six in the evening and her aunt and uncle would be home soon and she would have to go down to “Sunday family dinner time.” This was when the four of them would sit around the table and spend the only amount of time they spent together in the week as a family. As her mind wandered once more she thought of her mother, and how lucky she was to remember her, and how lucky that her Aunt and Uncle were so selfless when it came to the two children, and how her dipshit brother seemed to just take them for granted.
Maggie was eleven years old when Julie Finlay died. She can remember her Aunt Karen sitting down on the very same bed next to her. She remembered the look of trying to hold back tears while she talked. She explained that her mommy was very sick, and the doctors said that she might not get any better, and that we should go to the hospital now to see her. The urgency in Karen’s voice was apparent, and something Maggie had not heard from her aunt before.
The drive to Oakfield rest Home for the Terminally Ill had been in complete silence. Bobby – who was normally very chatty on these drives – was staring out of the rear window without saying a word. Uncle Steve had just had the same chat with Bobby when Karen had spoken to Maggie. Bobby was staring out of the window – not thinking about what Steve had said – but wondering where his father was, and if he even knew about his estranged wife’s cancer. Or even cared.
They had arrived at the rest home and walked into reception to sign in as usual. But something was different. The usual greeting from the nurses of “Hi guys” accompanied by a cheery wave was gone. Instead the nurse came up to Maggie and held her by the shoulders, and just forced a smile.
“If you need anything, we’ll be right here for you.” she had said. “Take as long as you need.”
All of the staff did pretty much the same thing as the family walked down the corridor to Julie’s room. Some of them had touched Bobby and Maggie on their shoulders. Some had even given them hugs. But hardly any of them had said anything.
The walk came to an end at the arrival of room 39. Karen had knocked on the door, and in an overly cheerful voice had said “Hello. I’ve got somebody here to see you!”
After a few seconds of silence, Karen opened the door. Maggie and Bobby’s mother was lying in bed, semi-conscious and sweating. She had looked a lot worse than when they had seen her the week before and it had obviously frightened the two eleven year olds.
Maggie had remembered the smile her mother seemed to force when she turned to look at her two children, and the incessant beeping of the heart rate monitor. It sounded like what was coming through the wall at the moment.
Click, clock.
She banged her fist twice on the wall next to her bed.
It was hard talking to her mom on that day. She was obviously making and effort to speak, but was finding it really difficult.
“Hey my little girl.” she said. “I worry about you both, you know that.”
“I know mom.” she said. Not knowing where the conversation was going.
“I have spent most of my days here in bed worrying about what is going to happen to you two.” Bobby looked on in silence, his eyes pink with tears.
“Don’t worry mom, we can look after ourselves. We’ll be OK. Promise.”
“Oh I know, I know. But you are both still children, and your dad let you down when you were young – anyway – let’s not talk about him. What I am trying to say is….” She trailed off. Her breathing had become laboured with the effort of talking and now he was fumbling for the oxygen mask next to her bed. Maggie reached out and put over her mother’s face. When she signalled she was OK to continue, Maggie placed it neatly by her side. Just in case.
“You know.” She took in a strained breath. “You know this ca… this illness has gotten the better of me.”
“Mom you’ll be OK.”
Julie shook her head and smiled. “I know my darling, I know. I am going to a better place soon. A happy place. And I want you to remember that, OK? Wherever I am I will always be happy. And I will always watch over you both.” Maggie had tears burning in her eyes and leant over and hugged her mother. Bobby came over and joined in.
That was the last time she saw her. The next day a doctor came over to the house and told them that Julie was not in any pain any more, and that she had gone to a better, happier place. Maggie asked if she could go see her there, and the doctor told her that one day she will, but not just yet. Bobby just sat and stared.
Click, clock.
Christ Bobby, you’re still as stubborn now as you were back then.
Click, clock.
She wouldn’t have minded her brother playing real ping pong in the garage where there was a perfectly good table standing idly in the corner gathering dust, but Robert was playing a video game.
Click, clock. Click, clock.
“Bobby!”
He was probably ignoring her. She thought of the funeral, and how everyone was so kind to them. She also thought of how her brother spent the rest of the summer in his room.
Click, clock.
Bang, bang on the wall again.
“Robert!”
“Don’t call me that!” came the voice from next door.
He hated being called Robert – she knew it would get his attention.
“Turn it down!”
Silence. Good. He must have turned it off.
Suddenly the door opened, and Bobby stood at the doorway.
“Don’t call me Robert! You know I don’t like it.”
“Just keep the noise down OK?”
“Oh sorrieee Miss Maple – didn’t know you were so sensitive.”
Maggie gave her twin brother a withering look and went back to her blank page.
“Uncle Steve and Aunt Karen will be back from the store soon, so you better clean your room of they will be pissed again” she said.
“And put some clean clothes on for God sake. You’re starting to smell.”
“You’re starting to smell” he said in the way a teenager copies what you say in a sarcastic voice.
“Bobby I’m trying to help you.”
“Bobby I’m trying to help you.”
“People are calling you names at school because of it.”
“People are calling you names at school.”
“Oh what-ever Robert.”
With that the front door opened and in came Steve and Karen.
“Hi guys.”
“Hey.”
“You both upstairs?”
“Yes Aunt Karen. I’m doing my homework and Bobby is tiding up his stink hole of a room.”
From downstairs came the unmistakable sound of a man cutting a laugh short because of a look a woman has given him.
“You guys want dinner yet – We could order pizza?”
“OK cool.”
“Sounds great” said Bobby
“As long as we eat it downstairs Bobby.” said Uncle Steve. “Have you still got last week’s box in your room?”
“Ha ha. Busted” said Maggie.
“Er. No. Oh wait. Maybe. I’ll bring it down.”
Later that evening, when Bobby had made a token attempt to clean his room by picking up the most offensive smelling clothes off the bedroom floor and put them in the wash basket (he hid the pizza box under his bed – later claiming he had thrown it out last Monday), and Maggie had now written a (very) short story entitled “The Fairy Girl” about some stupid school girl fantasy wishing to be a fairy one Christmas eve and waking up the next morning with a full set of wings, silver wand with a star on the end and an ability to make any boy fall madly in love with her by sneezing fairy dust on him – They came down to eat pizza.
The family went through the same routine as they had done every Sunday night since they twins were
eleven. They always sat down to dinner (sometimes Karen would cook, sometimes they got Pizza or Chinese), and they always made small talk about their week ahead.
“So” said Steve.
He took a large slide of pepperoni from the box in middle of the table.
“What are you doing at school this week?”
Steve took a bite from the crust end.
Silence.
“Bobby, honey. Steve was talking to you” said Karen.
“Not much. Just usual stuff.”
Maggie rolled her eyes at Karen.
“What stuff is that, buddy? You got gym class? I don’t know, play football or something?”
Maggie sniggered. Karen said no by patting her on the knee.
“I don’t like football.”
“Come on – every guy likes football. If you don’t play you aren’t gonna get picked, or meet new friends. Don’t you even want to try? I mean you might like it. You know. Get you out of the house maybe? You can’t play video games in your room all day. Kids need fresh air. And besides – You get to see all those cheerleaders yeah buddy?”
“Steve!” said Karen.
“Oh come on! You were in high school once. Don’t tell me you never looked at the guys playing ball?”
Karen’s face almost changed to match the colour of the pepperoni. She cleared her throat. “Maggie, honey, would you pass the garlic bread?”
“Aunt Karen. Steve asked you a question” there was a devilish glee in the way she was teasing her Aunt.
“Yes, OK, well that’s what teenagers do, don’t they? And besides, that’s how I met your Uncle Stevie.”
“Oh yeah baby” said Steve. “Best cheerleader on the pitch.” Steve winked at Karen. Maggie rolled her eyes at Bobby.
“Yeah well maybe I’ll try and play” said Bobby.
“Didn’t you try-out for the team two years ago buddy?”
Maggie laughed out loud this time. “Yeah – he got owned.”
“Yeah well we can’t all be as good as mister perfect Blake.”
Now it was Maggie’s turn attempt a peperoni impression. She very well nearly made the colour too.
“Oh – and who is Blake?” said Karen.
“No-one.”
“She’s been drooling over him since he joined our school last year.” said Bobby. He wrapped his arms around his body in a mock embrace “Oh Maggie, oh Blake, oh Maggie – mwah, mwah, mwah.”
“No – stop it!”
Maggie ran upstairs to avoid any more embarrassment. Bobby ran upstairs to avoid any more questions about his social life. And to avoid the dishes. Karen and Steve spent the rest of Sunday evening talking about how tragic circumstances had thrust parenthood upon them, but how lucky they were to have a family.
Four
Captain Tom Simpson surveyed the scene. It looked like a bomb or a missile had buried itself in the ground, deep in the forest, and blown underground – enough to scorch the surrounding trees and leave a fifty something foot crater in the undergrowth.
The absence of wildlife was the most disturbing thing. Earlier a deer had ventured toward it, but as soon as it caught sight of the scene, it fled as though it was being chased by its most fearsome predator.
It did resemble a bombsite, or a hole carved out by a meteor, but with some differences. Firstly, all of the earth seemed to have been compressed down, rather than blown out, as there was no debris around the hole. Second, and perhaps the strangest, was that it was cold. Ice cold. Most impact sites like this are still giving off heat. On closer inspection, the burn marks were not burn marks at all, but like the trees had a blackened frost bite effect.
The captain had not seen anything like this. Missiles? Yes. Unexploded bombs? Very rare but yes again. He had seen men have limbs blown off and buildings collapse, air strikes take out whole towns and IED’s split vehicles in half, but this was totally new. The new part wasn’t due to the cold burns or the obvious signs of explosion, but the fact that it was still making a noise, still humming in a pulsating, rhythmical sort of way. It almost sounded like the bass throb from the kind of dance music his son would listen to.
The object had made impact with the ground at approx. 19:52 EST on Sunday, 9th March and was reported to the police a few minutes later by a couple of dog walkers that heard the noise, and came running to see what had made it.
At 18:12 EST a squad car was the first to arrive on the scene. The unit came off the freeway and drove down the path towards the edge of the wood where they could already see the disturbance up ahead.
There was a semi clear path through the woodlands, and the ground looked flat enough to drive closer, so they decided to proceed with caution in the safety of their patrol car.
At one hundred feet away, as the ground sloped down, the car started experiencing strange electric failures. First the radio started to crackle. As the officer in the passenger seat leaned over to fiddle with the dials, the whole engine cut, and all of the electrics went dead.
As the driver applied the brakes, he realised that all of the electric servo assistance has cut out, rendering the brakes next to useless.
In his panic he tried to open the door, but the locks were engaged, and with no power he could not release the doors. By the time he realised he could pull the lever on the window sill, sparks started flying off of the dashboard, the current temporarily paralysing the two officers like a Taser.
As the sparks built up, they licked the oil and fuel under the bonnet and the whole engine caught fire. Within seconds the car burst into flames, instantly killing the men inside.
The car rolled further down the hill, and stopped when it hit a tree stump, burning itself out over the next few minutes.
At 18:32 EST, as is standard protocol when a patrol car does not radio in when called by the base, backup was sent to the scene. Several more cars arrived, but due to the number of them they parked up on the edge of the woodland, and proceeded on foot.
As the officers approached the burned out squad car, guns raised, they were met with a horrific scene. The car was lit by and eerie blue glow from the crater and as the squad moved closer, the blackened, burned out corpses of their colleagues seemed to grin manically back at them, with black teeth, surrounded in a halo of blue.
The lead officer quickly turned, and vomited onto the ground in front of him, waving the other men back, as to save them from seeing too much.
It was then that the police decided they were way out of their depth, and called in the special investigators.
After sending in the radio controlled bomb disposal car, and watching that freak out as it got closer, spin, almost charge down its owners like a rabid dog, and then emit a high pitch squeal before attempting to kill the commanding officer by blowing its robot hand straight in the direction of the now petrified men - the area was seal off until they could ascertain what the hell they were dealing with.
A week later, Captain Tom Simpson was standing a brave thirty feet closer to the crash site than the ill-fated police car was able to get seven days earlier. This wasn’t due to some macho – bravado all-american-tough-guy image that Tom was trying to portray, oh no. It was that after a week of measurements, tests, and a few more wrecked robots, the boffins had decided that the “event range” – as they were calling it – had depleted sufficiently that it was safe to be within twenty feet of the hole in the ground. The good Captain, however, was at thirty. And that’s as far as his all-american-tough-guy feet would take him.
“Sir.” said the young cadet.
“Yes.” said Captain Tom Simpson
“Sir. The gentlemen from the research team would like a word with you. Sir.”
“Thank you son.”
“Sir.” The young cadet saluted and turned on his heels.
Tom walked back up the slope towards the small camp site that had been set up in the wake of the phenomenon. He entered the largest of the white tents and into a room full of blinking lights, computer screens and men hurrying around i
n lab coats. It looked like a scene from a hospital drama, except without the patients.
“Captain, over here” said one of the lab coats.
Tom walked purposefully towards the man by the largest of the computer screens.
“What have you got for me?”
The lab coat fidgeted nervously in his seat before he spoke.
“Well, sir, we have been doing extensive tests in the electromagnetic range, gamma wave, alpha waves, you name it – but the most exiting work has been in x-ray spectroscopy within the near field event range over high end frequencies….”
Tom pinched the bridge of his nose in trying to suppress a headache.
“Professor Brightside. I am not a scientist. Please. In layman’s terms.”
“Yes. Sorry. Of course. Well, basically, we have found a new type of radiation coming from the site.”
The captain rubbed his temples and let out a slow, controlled breath.
“What do mean – new type of radiation?”
“Well, it is showing signs typical of radioactive decay, but does not look like anything we have ever seen. And any attempt to look into the ground to see what is down there fails. We have tried sonar, radar, the lot, and we can’t penetrate it. It’s almost like a Klingon cloaking device!” He laughed in a nerdy, squeaky kind of way. Tom was not impressed.
“What’s the next move?”
“Well, we just have to wait.”
“Wait?”
“Yes, well the event range has been dropping steadily for a week now. We estimate that it will be depleted enough for it to be safe for us to go in there in about thirteen days. Give or take.”
The captain moved back over to the entrance of the tent. He could see the crater ahead of him, and the soft blue light emanating from within. He could sense that this was something new. Something big. Something that had the potential to cause a media frenzy – even panic in the general public. This required careful management. Any leaks must be quickly stamped out and controlled.
Pulse Page 2