"Hey, Jim, listen...uh...I--"
"You short of cash again? I can float you some when I get back but I'm out of town right now."
"No, well, yeah I'm always short of cash, but that's not why I'm calling," he paused. Why was he calling? Then he realized what Jim said. "Wait. You're where?"
"On my way to Philly. I hit a little snag with a flat but I'm back on the road. Anyway, we're merging with a company and I'm a key player in the deal. I'm going to be traveling a lot over the next few weeks."
"Oh shit," he said as his heart sank into the knot of panic in his gut. Intuitively he hoped Jim would be around if anything did happen. No one else had his full trust.
"What's wrong?"
"Oh...nothing. I just hoped we could have dinner tonight," he said trying to sound as untroubled as possible, at the same time wondering why he felt this way. "Oh. Hey, Jim, guess where I'm going tomorrow?" he paused, "Cherry Ridge."
"Cherry Ridge? Where we used to go camping with the scouts?"
"Yup, the very same. I may be stopping by the church we went to for Sunday mass."
"No kidding! God, I haven't been up there since I was fourteen."
"Jim, remember how we used to say if anything bad ever happened we'd grab our scout gear and head for that church."
"Yeah," he laughed, "whose dumb idea was that anyway?"
"I don't know but maybe it's not such a dumb idea." A long and uncomfortable pause followed.
"Oh Jesus Christ, Turnello. Is this about those fucking dreams of yours?"
Turnello deflated. "Jim, just listen to me for a minute."
"What did I tell you? They are just dreams, okay? You had these same dreams in high school and nothing ever happened. Your career as a psychic ended there."
"This is different."
"How is it different?"
"An asteroid is going to pass pretty close to the Earth tonight."
"Turnello, that kind of shit happens all the time."
"This is different. I'm not sure how, but it's different."
"Oh my god, have you been drinking again?"
"This has nothing to do with booze."
"Oh shit, you've been drinking again."
"Jim, just promise me something, okay? This is important, if anything happens you head to Cherry Ridge."
"Christ, Turnello," there was a long pause and he heard Jim breathing and then sigh.
“Jim?"
"Okay. Okay, Turnello, if the apocalypse happens, I will head to Cherry Ridge. Now do me a favor and get your ass to a meeting or therapy or something."
"I tell you what, if nothing happens I will check myself in somewhere."
"You know I love you man but you are one crazy bastard sometimes."
"Yeah, thanks a lot," Turnello said and hung up. For the first time in his life he hoped he was going crazy.
The observatory - Night, Mon Sep 2
When Mark showed up an hour later, David hadn't made much progress. He felt certain his computer worked fine and the asteroid would hit. Knowing what to do about it perplexed him. No historical precedent could be referred to. He had no idea where it might strike and even if he did, they could never evacuate in time.
Basically, a sixty kilometer pile of shit would hit the fan in a matter of hours and the mess it would create hadn't been seen since the dinosaurs went extinct.
Mark checked everything David had done already. Twice. David pretended to be patient while his mind raced thinking about what a waste of time it was. He thought about his wife and children. He thought about things he wished he had done and things he regretted doing. His life passed before him like a movie. Then an idea began to form.
"Mark, forget about what you're doing and figure out where this thing is going to enter the atmosphere."
"Okay and then what?"
"I got that part." David went downstairs into his office and locked the door. Taking out his keys, he unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled it open. He grabbed stacks of files and papers and tossed them on the floor. At the bottom of the drawer, a metal box sat permanently fixed in place.
A small plastic rectangle and a keypad stood in place of a lock. He placed his thumb on it and several beeps chirped out after which a small LED blinked green. Then he punched in a nine digit code and the light turned a steady green. The box unlatched with an audible click. He opened the lid and removed a satellite phone. He waited for it to power up and acquire a signal. Then he held down the number one.
"Identify," said the automated female voice.
"Delta Hotel Five Two Juliette Papa Lima"
The line went silent for a few seconds and then rang a strange electronic ring twice.
"U.S. NORTHCOM."
"Hello, this is Dr. David Hadley, NASA JPL. I need to speak with General Jacobs."
"Please hold."
When the general came on the line, David outlined the situation and the effect if the asteroid struck land or the ocean. He said the only possible option was to break it up as high in the atmosphere as possible.
Hitting it dead on would be problematic, but if they could get close and set off a small nuclear explosion, they might break it into small enough pieces that the damage from any of the strikes would be minimal. The danger of an upper atmospheric nuclear explosion would be an EMP.
"How much time do we have, David?"
"About five hours," he replied checking his watch.
"Send me the trajectory data as soon as you have it."
"Will do." The line went dead.
David went upstairs to where Mark worked, taking the satellite phone with him.
"How's it going?"
"Well, I ran a bunch of simulations and I think I have a pretty good handle on it.
"Send what you have to this e-mail address," David said, scribbling on a scrap of paper and handing it to Mark.
"What is this?"
"NORAD."
"Is there a plan?"
"Kind of. They are going to try and break it up high in the atmosphere with a missile."
"That's going to be like trying to hit a fly ball with a .22 and even if we do succeed, a piece as small as ten meters will be like a one megaton bomb on impact."
"I know but it's all we got." David replied, looking into a dark corner of the room, trying to see the future.
After Mark hit send on the e-mail he asked, "Now what?"
"Go home and be with your family. There's nothing else you can do here."
"You're going to do the same I assume?"
"No, I'm staying here and keeping an eye on this thing to make sure nothing changes again. Something is bugging me about all of this. It doesn't make sense and I need to figure it out."
"David, what is there to figure out? What does it matter at this point?"
"I don't know," he said sighing. An awkward silence followed and then David looked up and into Mark's eyes. Mark put out his hand and David grasped it.
"It's been a privilege working with you."
"Same here, Mark," he said. They shook hands and Mark turned to leave. "But don't you give up just yet. It's a great big planet and anything can happen."
Mark looked back over his shoulder and gave a wan smile. "I'm not," he lied.
After Mark left, David put on a fresh pot of coffee and prayed it wasn't going to be his last. His incredible capacity for denial kept him from having a full blown panic attack. His marriage had lasted as long as it did because of it. It allowed him to convince himself he had good relationships with his children.
That veneer could only last so long and seemed to be wearing thin now. Instead of going home to any of them, he chose to stay here. In fact, he rather preferred it. Best not to focus on that right now.
He paced. Chewed on a pen cap. Crumbled paper into balls and threw them at his computer. Then he poured himself another cup of coffee and sat down. What could he hope to accomplish in these next and possibly his last few hours? If nothing else he could track the asteroid's progress and make
sure it hit the atmosphere where they thought it would. No telling what might happen considering how quickly it veered off course earlier. Passing any information along would be vital in having a chance of hitting it.
Still the question of a sudden change of course gnawed at him. There wouldn't be any time to analyze the data but, in case he did have a chance, he should back up the info on his USB flash drive. In order to be able to fit everything he needed, he archived and transferred only the data from the day before it changed course, and then everything after up to the current moment.
A little over two hours from the time he made the call, the satellite phone rang and he picked it up.
"Dr. Hadley, this is General Jacobs chief of staff. I assume you are continuing to monitor the asteroid's progress?"
"Yes, I am."
"If there are any changes we'd like you to contact us directly using your secure sat phone and this number."
David made a note of the number and waited for the man to continue.
"Based on the data, we are going to attempt what you suggested. We've informed Russia and China so they can assist and also of course so we don't inadvertently start a nuclear war."
"Good idea. Anything else I can do on my end?"
"You're doing pretty much the second most important thing on the planet right now. Just stay focused on that."
"Second most important thing?" David said unable to restrain himself.
"Well, the men aiming the missiles just took first place, doctor."
David laughed both at himself for his ego and at the chief of staff's tone of voice. The line went dead and he returned to the job of keeping an eye on things. About an hour later, after the asteroid had closed to a range of less than one lunar distance, something even more peculiar happened. The asteroid broke apart into several large chunks including one tiny piece which he noticed only because it moved away from the rest and seemed to be pulled into the surface of the moon.
He had no time to think about that. He placed the call to NORAD to warn them about what happened and then focused on the task of tracking them immediately. Once the asteroids entered the atmosphere they would assume tracking.
With nothing to do but wait he found himself wishing he drank. In fact, now seemed like the perfect time to start. He went downstairs and began to rifle through everyone's desks in search of a bottle of anything that might be stashed. With fewer than twenty minutes before estimated impact he was rewarded with a bottle of Glenfiddich fifteen year old Scotch. As time was of the essence he didn't bother with a glass. He wondered just how drunk he'd be able to get in twenty minutes.
"Well, here's to finding out," he said toasting the empty office.
Impact - Turnello - Night, Mon Sep 2
As Monday evening rolled around Turnello began to think Jim had been right. Just like every other poor schmuck with dreams of the apocalypse throughout history, he was totally wrong. The day had been perfectly ordinary and nothing like the dreams would have led him to believe.
He spent the rest of the morning working on an ongoing project at a neighbor's house down the road where he taped new sheetrock walls and put trim in a finished basement. In the afternoon he traveled to another client's home a few miles away setting up a new computer system for her. He grabbed some drive through food for a late lunch and then drove a half hour to catch an early meeting.
After the meeting, he picked up Chinese food and headed home. A setting sun cast everything in a warm orange light and he rode with the truck windows down. He thought about the phone call to Jim.
That call held up a mirror and he didn't like the man he saw in it. One thing to have crazy thoughts, but quite another to speak them aloud to another person. This is how psychotherapy can help people. Saying your crazy thoughts out loud lets you hear just how crazy they are.
By the end of that conversation he realized that he let a dream direct his life. More than that, fear directed it. He had let fear, the fear of his own death, control his life. A coward died many times before their actual death just like this. If you let it, fear could slowly paralyze you so that you died little by little over time. Every day doing less and less until your life had been cut back to just the essentials required for existence. An individual could have the appearance of living but instead be a member of the walking dead that only existed as the outward shell of a human.
He pulled into his driveway, cut the engine and grabbing his bag of take out, went inside. Letting fear control your life is no way to live. Knowing that and actually being able to do otherwise are two completely different things. It seemed to take at least half a lifetime just to get good at the basics. He sighed and dropped the food and his keys on the kitchen table.
By the time he finished his dinner, time spent lost in thought, he looked up to see his window turned dark. Crickets chirped and a cool breeze blew through the screen. He felt like a doomsday cult follower who wakes on the appointed day only to find that nothing at all has happened. Could disappointment describe such a feeling? Do sane people feel disappointed that the end hasn't come?
Turnello knew it wasn't his own personal irrational fear. People had been predicting the end of the world for quite some time. In 1524 a group of London astrologers predicted that on February 1 of that year a great flood would happen. In anticipation of this, twenty-thousand Londoners left their homes and went to higher ground. Nothing happened.
Cotton Mather, a Puritan Minister, predicted the world would come to an end in 1697. When this prediction failed he changed the date to 1716. Not easily discouraged, when this second prediction failed he chose the year 1736 for the end. We'll never know if there would have been a fourth end date as he passed away in 1728.
Jehovah’s Witnesses may hold a special place in the arena of doomsday divination as they had predicted the end of the world eighteen times in the twentieth century alone.
Turnello recalled these few from his reading, out of apparently hundreds of dates. Humans obviously have a fascination with the end of the world. Perhaps out of the desire to escape from lives of quiet desperation.
With that track record he would have to put his money on nothing happening. He decided to go to bed and get an early start to figuring out what to do with the rest of his life. It seemed like maybe the psych consult he promised Jim would need to top his list. He lay down and closed his eyes.
His eyes opened again to daylight. Sitting up he felt slightly panicked. He must have overslept way beyond the time he needed to wake up. He looked around his bedroom but things didn't seem right. Something urged him outside. He pulled open the door and stepped out onto the path.
Across the street stood a row of small trees, growing right in the middle of the sidewalk. Trees packed full of pink blossoms that dropped petals in the breeze like a snow storm. He didn't understand where they came from. They weren't there this morning. He crossed the street to examine the trees more closely when the ground began to shake.
A loud crack tore through the air and the street split apart like a canyon. Water from broken pipes sprayed in the air. Steam and smoke rose from the fissure as well as an awful stench he thought must have come from the sewer pipes.
A shuffling sound like dragging feet came from behind and he turned to look. A tall emaciated woman staggered from the open door of his home. Her skin had a peculiar brownish gray color and she her hair was stringy and unkempt. When she saw him she let out a low guttural moan that sent a shiver through his body. Her paced increased and she headed straight for him making clicking noises with her teeth.
A wave of panic flowed and threatened to drown him. He knew he had to get away. He looked around and saw more and more of the things coming from every direction. He ran to the edge of the fissure and knew if he could get to the other side he would be safe. Out of breath, heart pounding, he looked into the abyss. He saw a raging torrent of water. Behind him, the shuffling of feet and the clicking of teeth.
He turned to see dozens of them coming for him. He had no c
hoice but to jump and swim for it. He got to the edge and slid in. The current immediately pulled him under. Carried downstream, he fought to keep his head above water. He saw mist rising in the air further down and heard the sound of a waterfall.
He flailed, trying to grab something to stop his movement. Within a matter of seconds, he felt himself plunging through mid-air, screaming.
He woke with that scream cut short when he found himself in a dark room with a mattress damp with sweat beneath him. Another damn nightmare. He flopped back and exhaled a deep sigh of relief.
Suddenly, the bed began to tremble. Pots and pans rattled in the kitchen. A hard jolt tossed him into the air, a foot above his bed, and then it all stopped.
He switched on the lamp and jumped up. He found a pair of shorts and put them on along with slippers. The bulb flickered and he had to put his hand on the wall to keep from falling. Flashes of light outside lit up the front yard intermittently. A series of distant explosions reached his ears. Tree limbs were breaking as well as glass. The lamp went out and he stumbled to his desk to grab a flashlight. The shaking subsided.
He pulled open the front door and stepped outside. Moonlight cut the darkness exposing dozens of contrails in the night sky. A tree had fallen across a neighbor's yard. A pale, orange glow filtered through the trees of a distant undeveloped lot. The air had a peculiar smell and the sound of rushing water followed. Then, as if the valley itself were in agony, a deep metallic groan sighed.
This time he would not be fooled. He went back inside and closed the door. It became obvious what happened. He was dreaming again. He would not give in to this. No more being ruled by fear. He'd had enough. He lay down on the bed and was out within minutes. For the first night in months he slept a deep, dreamless sleep.
Impact - Jim - Late night, Mon Sep 2
The trip down to Philadelphia had been a strange one for Jim. That whole incident with the flat tire and those assholes from the rest area ruined the trip. He felt certain they had engineered the flat, but he couldn't figure out how. It unnerved him and left him feeling on edge where trips like this usually made him peaceful and happy.
A Bad Day Part 1 Page 3