Attribution

by Christine Horner

  Hemmy surprised Thomas by discreetly shaking her head in warning when he put his hand out to shake Starzl’s small palm.

  “Where are Quinn and McKenzie?” Claire asked, looking for them.

  Hemmy pulled on her mother’s arm, “Peyton’s moms will be here tomorrow.”

  “I don’t need parents to pretend I’m brilliant,” Starzl’s eyes shot hot daggers.

  “Well, you all deserve to be congratulated.” Thomas wanly smiled when all he wanted to do was punch the little mon—child in the mouth.

  Starzl turned on his heel, rejecting Thomas’s hand and his compliments.

  After the boy had stepped out of earshot, Hemmy whispered in her father’s ear, “Daddy, it’s awful!” Hemmy took pains to make it look like they were amidst a celebratory hug. “Starzl said they should ruin the Grand Canyon by using it to hold fresh water. They are going to do it!”

  “Hemmy, are you absolutely sure about this?”

  His daughter hesitated fearfully, quickly glancing around the room. Thomas noticed the strange absence of Frohm and Young from such a monumental moment in human history.

  She lifted her chin, then gave a firm nod. “Yes, it’s now part of the plan. I shouldn’t have told you.”

  “Ah, well, Rome isn’t burning yet.” Thomas squinched up his face, “Honey, I’m so proud of you. But, watching that waterfall has made me have to—”

  Hemmy checked around once again, then pointed. “It’s okay. Out that door and down the hall.”

  Thomas kissed the soft skin of Hemmy’s cheek.

  Less than a minute later, Thomas locked himself inside the unisex family bathroom off the main hall leading to the dome. He waved his hands underneath the faucet to activate the flow of water. “I wonder what the weather forecast is,” Thomas commented aloud to himself.

  A woman in his earpiece responded, “Clear skies. Anything developing in your location?”

  “Let me try to enhance the signal for you, sirs.”

  Inside the old Tomteboda mail processing facility in northern Stockholm, General Goddard Frohm and Major Terrance Young stood behind two military personnel working at a computer station hidden within the small secret ops center. The mission was to locate and identify the digital voice pattern being picked up by a listening device via an operative as she casually waited her turn for the bathroom Thomas occupied.

  “You’re not going to believe what the wind just blew in,” said the voice still breaking slightly.

  Frohm turned to Young, “Nice job, Terrance. Now we’ve confirmed he’s the source, let’s throw him and his fellow hacks a little blowback for being so nosy.”

  “Thank you, sir.” A rare compliment. Young about to do a little self-promotion, he should have known better.

  “You know, why can’t these chuckle-head-do-gooders realize there’s a much bigger plan in play? Sure, get ahold of just a piece of it, it may seem sketchy at first glance.”

  Frohm was having one of his philosophical moments. Young shrank on the inside, a fake smile plastered on the outside.

  Frohm concluded, “But like a dog on a bone, they won’t let go. Save the poor Grand Canyon? The Grand Canyon or the entire sorry world?”

  CHAPTER 44

  The walls of the FEMA emergency shower dissolved leaving Truby standing dressed with wet, slicked back hair. She threw on a worn baseball cap even though the sun had set, and no one would see her hair anyway. As she walked back to her corner of the world, she caught Zedd and Cadence having an intense argument parallel to her. They were out of earshot, but observation led her to conclude Zedd was trying to convince Cadence of something she adamantly opposed.

  Psychically feeling the heat of being watched, Cadence abruptly turned her head to meet Truby’s eyes. She waved in a friendly manner. Zedd’s head turned, his eyes dark until he saw Truby. He pulled Cadence in a headlock for a brotherly noogie. Angrier now than before, Cadence stomped off leaving Zedd to plod after her.

  Truby had another reason for wearing the ballcap—anonymity. Maybe she’d spent too much time away from civilization, but she had come to some notoriety in the space of a few acres. She couldn’t make her way around camp without someone calling her name, saluting, or stopping her to share a concern. Why? Was it because she was behaving like anarchy’s poster child?

  Truby was acting like a jerk, stirring up trouble everywhere she went. Even she didn’t like what she’d become.

  When she arrived at their camp, several off-gridders sat around the bio-warming device as Rose played the ukulele. Pete was sitting next to the woman she’d seen him with back at Old Faithful. When she wasn’t looking, Pete would gaze at her adoringly. As more off-gridders arrived with chairs, so too did Cadence and Zedd.

  “Stimulating game today,” Pete nodded his head requesting Truby sit next to him.

  “I prefer baseball,” she said as she looked for either a way to get rid of these people or a way to fit in, maybe both.

  Pete inspected Truby, “Pitcher, right? The pitcher gets all the glory or all the blame. That can be tough.” After a moment, “In your professional opinion, what do you think stands to be gained from a global state of emergency?”

  Truby was stunned to discover Pete knew what had been weighing heavily on her mind since the earthquake. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

  He sighed, “You never disappoint, Truby. I’ll call just to see your hand.”

  “Ever hear of Rare Earth minerals?”

  Pete paused to study Truby. “They’re not exactly rare now, are they.”

  “Nope, but that’s not the issue.” There was no point in playing coy. “I’ve gotten myself involved in something more than I can handle. And I... I don’t know how to stop it.”

  “You have teammates, Truby. Stop trying to play every position.”

  Truby went silent. She let Rose finish her song, applauding along with Pete.

  “Your turn. That woman and Rose.”

  “Isn’t it obvious? Her mother was with a tour group visiting from Indiana.”

  “And?”

  “In my defense, I was lonely. I broke my long-standing rule against more than casual fraternization. On her last night, under a full moon, we made love next to Old Faithful as she blew for the very last time. And so did I.”

  “Then, Rose...”

  “Yes.” He beamed full of pride at the miniature version of the woman he still loved. “She’s my daughter.”

  ___

  Cadence shook Truby awake. “Truby, wake up! People are coming from all over. Protestors are demanding information. They’re asking for you.”

  “What? Why me?” Truby rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

  Somewhere nearby, newly arriving campers argued over real estate. That meant they weren’t in the back of the makeshift community any longer. It was getting crowded.

  She threw on her baseball cap as Cadence dragged her to the roadblock. Closer to the frontline, what started as chanting became shouting. Six Guardsmen and women pointed laser assault rifles at angry protestors.

  “Show us Vegas! All the way to Vegas!”

  Truby was stunned to see Zedd practically leading the charge. A developing mob gave a few protestors newfound courage.

  “I demand to know what happened to my second cousin!”

  “Why aren’t you releasing any information?” another yelled.

  Waving a defaced flag, “There’s nothing wrong with Vegas. False flag!”

  The new chant became, “False flag! Out of the bag! False flag! Out of the bag!”

  Zedd pumped his fist in the air, walking a wide circle around sloppily organized protestors as if recruiting.

  “I thought you said someone was asking for me?” asked Truby.

  Cadence just shrugged her shoulders, her expression unreadable. When Zedd reached the two women, he tightened his circle to only them.

  This was his idea of teamwork—starting a riot?

  Truby suspected Zedd was dousing their situat
ion with an accelerant. The impatience of youth, though she had to admit she was there herself.

  Ignoring Zedd, she had her eye on the Guardsman at the end of the line. He held his weapon nervously, gray eyes flashing fearfully anytime anyone got too close.

  Truby lightly shoved Cadence toward him. “Freckles thinks you’re cute. Work it.”

  Cadence crossed her arms defiantly. “You sexist—”

  “I have a good teacher,” Truby jeered.

  Zedd poked Cadence in the back with an elbow. She flew around defensively, the palm of her hand stopping just short of smashing his larynx.

  “I swear to you, the next person to lay a hand on me will deeply regret it!”

  CHAPTER 45

  “Things are getting kinda rough, huh?”

  “Private Coby Holt, Miss. But you can call me Coby. Nothing I—we can’t handle, ma’am.” Freckles dropped his rifle halfway, lifting his chin to show he was prepared to bring it back up at his choosing.

  Truby stood a few feet away slightly turned as if preoccupied but close enough to hear the conversation. Cadence’s Kung Fu move had surprised her more than Zedd. He’d laughed and continued to pump his fist and chant with the protestors before Cadence left to go where she would be more appreciated. Truby cleared her throat loudly to encourage Cadence struggling with what to say.

  Truby heard a repetitive rubbery bouncing sound. Twenty feet away, a white soccer ball bounced off the knee of the teenage soccer player from yesterday.

  Her loud whistle caught his attention. Truby waved him in. “Hey, kid, where’d you get the ball?”

  “I don’t know. Was just there when I got up this morning.”

  “Just where?”

  “In front of my tent.”

  The invisible fence, she thought. She slid to her left, her back to Coby to whisper to Cadence.

  “Hey, Coby, unless that ball has nine lives, your fence is broken.”

  “No, it’s not! It allows anything under fifty pounds to pass through, like little animals.”

  Cadence looked horrified. Tears welled up in her big eyes, spilling down her cheeks. “You hurt the big animals? I can’t believe you are so mean! I hate you!”

  Coby shook his head before waving his hand to silence her as he looked toward the other Guards dealing with protestors. Distressed, “Miss, that’s not what happens, ma’am. You get a nasty shock, but you aren’t hurt that bad.”

  “Tell me about it.” Truby had no trouble recalling the painful zap issued by the fake tree on the Old Faithful Inn property when her BioID was activated.

  Suddenly the chanting stopped supplanted by loud shouting between two men, verbal threats, and warnings coming from both sides. Someone threw the first rock. Truby clearly saw it rise into the air, hitting the invisible barrier, stick, and fizzle into flames. Another rock flew. The protestors weren’t aiming at the Guards—yet. She couldn’t help noticing the paradox. Unbearable beauty and abundance surrounded them, yet oppression along with those fighting against it still existed.

  2022 :: Stockholm, Sweden — “How bad is it?” Thomas spoke into a burner cellphone.

  On a GSC Family Living Quarters media screen, PNN broadcasted a live report from the Grand Canyon. A novice reporter was in over her head.

  “Bad,” Obaba answered gravely. “They’re producing spin as fast as we post updated reports.”

  Bottom media screen ticker: Fringe Off-Grid Community Endangers Lives of Environmental Workers.

  A young woman reporter is jostled by protesters as she moves through the crowd, “Officials say they are just performing routine park maintenance and that protesters are reacting to false reports . . .”

  “Pathetic.” Thomas was disgusted.

  The reporter paused in front of two maintenance trucks covered with colorful, inflated condoms filled with whipped cream.

  Off-gridders slid around the hood of the truck chanting, “Your government is a whore! Your government is a whore!”

  “. . . posted on the darknet by a rogue underground group some are calling Hatchett— Verifying now.” The reporter referred to her notepad. “Rather, they call their illegal news outlet The Hatchett—”

  “Oh, Thomas, no,” groaned Obaba.

  Thomas put his face in his hands.

  The reporter was cut off by a colleague speaking into her ear from the studio. Touching her ear bud to listen, she stopped cold leaving dead air. A protestor waved, mouthing “Hi, Mom,” from behind.

  “I’m sorry, I’m supposed to what?” she says to the camera.

  “Bridgette, thank you,” finally said an unseen voice live on the air to stimulate the woman whose face had drained of color.

  Flustered, she realized her blunder. “Oh, I wasn’t supposed to say the name. Sorry.”

  “That’s rookie bad.” Thomas physically cringed with feeling for a reporter who didn’t yet know she’d never get another job in news. “But thanks for the plug, kid.”

  PNN split-screened with a studio news anchor clearly adlibbing as she salvaged the remaining timeslot.

  “Next, we’ll show you how the Grand Canyon is . . .”

  On the other half of the split-screen, Bridgette smiled tightly, nodding her head as she followed the news anchor’s lead.

  The reporter was suddenly shoved violently. The camera’s lens shifted to someone kamikazeing his or her way through the crowd knocking people down like a run of the bulls. Covered by a gray string-drawn hoodie, wearing sunglasses, the figure jumped into the truck. The slight size of the person and the baggy clothing made it difficult to tell if the individual was male or female.

  The truck’s engine sprang to life, throwing the protesters on the hood into a state of terror. White knuckles gripped the steering wheel as the engine gunned. The driver jammed on the brakes throwing a man and a woman off the front of the vehicle. The driver gunned it again.

  Thomas cried out helplessly from his sofa as if he could stop what came next.

  The two-ton vehicle bounced violently as back wheels rolled over a young woman off-gridder who threw herself between the front and rear axles.

  “No, stop!”

  CHAPTER 46

  “No, don’t!” Truby shouted at a zealot barreling between two preoccupied Guardsman.

  Launching her stout body, the Millennial zealot squeezed her eyes closed, turning a shoulder to take the brunt of the hit where she thought the invisible barrier began. Falling headfirst, Truby heard a small scream along with a thud until the sound was abruptly cut off. The woman’s torso, shoulders, and head vaporized leaving her lower half lying in a fetal position on the ground. The crowd was stunned into silence.

  “Who’s next? Anybody?” taunted the dog-handler.

  “Wait!” Cadence took a step forward. “Wait!”

  Truby grabbed hold of Cadence’s arm, yanking her back with more force than intended. “Tell them; we will have a full-scale riot.”

  Cadence angrily rotated her shoulder making sure it wasn’t dislocated. “What do you care? You’ve done nothing to help Hector. People are getting hurt now. What Zedd said about you is true. I don’t have to do anything you say.”

  Stunned, Truby watched Cadence walk away. She felt like the captain of a sinking ship, its crew about to engage in a mutiny. The crowd began disbursing, in shock from what they had just witnessed. Somewhere near the roadblock, Truby heard dogs barking. Funny, there was no sign of canines. Sharp pains moved through Truby’s head, a ringing in her ears rising. Things were beginning to move more quickly. She needed to remain cool-headed and sharp.

  2022 :: Stockholm, Sweden — Twelve-year-old Hemmy argued with her parents as they rode down the escalator in the public Global Security Council building.

  “I’m the guest of honor.” She rebelliously took her hands off the rails to fold her arms across her chest. “Well, you can’t stop me!”

  When Thomas continued to scan faces in the crowd, the child turned to plead with her mother, “Mum!”

  �
��It’s the most secure place in the world.” Claire waved her hands around passionately. “Can’t we?”

  “Claire, not everyone is as happy as the media would have you believe,” Thomas said, his gaze never leaving GSC building visitors. “The project has enemies. This is not the time nor place.”

  “How often is your child awarded a Nobel Peace Prize?” Claire rarely became angry. When she did, it usually was for good reason.

  He gave her a quick kiss on her clenched jawline, “We’ll see.”

  Distraction over, Thomas’s gut quickly knotted. Like a dark shadow on an otherwise sunny day, Young stood, his back against a wall. Foot casually propped up, he appeared preoccupied with his smartphone.

  Thomas’s phone vibrated in his inner jacket breast pocket. A digital voice recording came through his earbud.

  “This is a reminder call that big brother has invited Tommy to a meeting in the Secret Clubhouse in three minutes. Please proceed immediately to the Secret Clubhouse.”

  Thomas grew hot. He was not Young’s plaything. He also fumed at the Global Security Council’s RFID chipping his child. The GSC had issued a veiled ultimatum to force the families, including the child geniuses, to essentially become involuntary walking public service announcements for the devices. Thomas was smart enough to know it was only a matter of time before the implants would become mandatory under the ruse of health and safety.

  He planned to keep on walking with his family and ignore Young’s invitation. He continued to scan faces not only for his and his family’s “health and safety,” but also by now, out of habit. A habit similar to a peace officer compelled to sit against back walls in public spaces even off duty.

  As they passed a museum quality diorama of the very first Global Security Council building, beyond it, another man casually leaned his back against a wall with a propped-up foot. Odd. He was tall, slender and definitely Chinese. This man was hard to ignore. It was the baseball hat he was now wearing that caught his attention. It was just like the one hanging on a hook in their GSC family living quarters closet. The man tipped the bill, smiling directly at him.