“I grow weary of this, Shade. It’s time for you to leave.” Liam stood.
So did Shade.
Something took hold of Liam’s shirt, lifting him two feet off the floor. The something was a shadow, one vaguely shaped like a human except larger by a third.
“What—”
The shadow carried him toward the window, slowly at first. A glance terrified Liam. Instead of a view of Brussels, he saw a curtain of shadowy shapes—eyeless faces and hollow mouths pressed to the glass in a single, undulating mass. Black, ill-defined hands pressed through the tempered glass pane. Fingers crooked. Reaching, grasping, clawing.
“No—” His voice failed him. He screamed but heard only silence.
The hands touched him, pulling at his flesh.
Centimeter by centimeter he neared the wall of glass. Hands pulled at his ears, fingered his open mouth, clawed at his eyes.
“No. Please. God, no!”
“You don’t believe in God, Burr.” Shade’s voice. In his ears, in his brain. The words tunneled through the soft tissue between his ears like worms boring through soft dirt.
Liam was outside, hovering fifty feet above the hard concrete surface below. Then he began to rise. Slowly at first, like a child’s runaway balloon, then faster, like a plane and then a rocket. The air grew cold and thin. The earth receded.
Liam had flown many times to many countries. The window seat had always been his choice. He enjoyed looking down on the earth as he flew over it. He knew what thirty-five thousand feet looked like.
The air was too thin to breathe. Frost crystalized on his skin and then the surface of his eyeballs. He gulped for air like a fish left to die on a dock. His body began to spasm. He managed to mouth one word. “Please.”
The last image Liam saw before his eyeballs frosted over was a nearly faceless image of the man who had been in his office.
“If you insist,” Shade said.
He let go.
The door to Liam’s office opened and closed. He heard the lock being set. The cold on the outside was gone, replaced by the relative warmth of his office. The cold still on the inside leaked out.
His vision began to clear. He looked at the windows that moments before had been covered by hideous creatures. Thankfully, the creatures were gone. He felt the Persian rug beneath him.
Then he saw a pair of feet in expensive dress shoes. A pair of gray slacks rose from the shoes. Liam didn’t move. A hand gently slapped him on the cheek. “Mr. Burr.”
Mister? American accent.
“Are you with me, sir?”
“Who…”
“My name is Fred Pierce, sir, and we need to talk.”
“I’m…alive.”
“True, but you may not be happy about that later. Here, let me help you to the sofa. It’s got to be more comfortable than the floor.” He helped Liam up.
“Where is…I mean…”
“Shade? Who knows. He comes and goes as he sees fit.”
“We must call for help.”
Pierce shook his head. “I don’t advise that. Just because Shade isn’t here doesn’t mean he’s oblivious to what we do.”
“You know about him? You’ve seen him?”
“Seen him? Yes, you could say that. I’ve seen more of him than I care to mention. When you’re ready and able to talk, I’ll fill you in.”
“Are you with him?”
“Like you, I’ve been chosen. In some ways, Liam, I am your new best friend, like it or not.”
Pierce was average height, average build, average brown hair, average blue eyes, average middle age. Nothing about him was distinctive. He smiled.
The man frightened Liam.
26
Things to Come
Jeremy walked the halls of the Mount Weather facility. Next to him strolled President Nathan Barlow. The man moved slower, his shoulders drooped, and his skin seemed to sag and was a full shade paler than when they first arrived.
“It’s impertinent of me to ask, Mr. President, but how are you holding up?”
“I’m fine, Jeremy. Tired. Stressed. I’m still well enough to irritate my wife.”
“Good to hear, sir. There are not many higher callings.”
Barlow chuckled. “They’ll put that on my tombstone: President Nathan Barlow, United States president, New York senator, history professor, wife irritator.”
Jeremy smiled. The man might look like death warmed over, but he still had a sense of humor.
“I’ve been talking to my advisors one-on-one. I’ve been president long enough to know that a certain amount of gamesmanship goes on when you get too many people in the room. I have an order for you, but first, tell me about your progress.”
“As I mentioned in our group meeting yesterday, sir, we’ve made little progress on finding the source of the worm. We have more communication now but not nearly enough. Our biggest problem is that so many of the computers that were affected by the worm were wiped clean by the EMP pulses.”
“Like blowing up a building after committing a crime. A harsh way to get rid of evidence.”
“That’s a good metaphor, sir.”
“But you have some information. You said it was like Stuxnet.” He motioned to a bench in the common area. Several workers stared at them, but none approached. They sat. “Jeremy, it’s just you and me right now. This stays between us. Did we do this to ourselves?”
“No, sir. The source of Stuxnet is still undetermined, although I suspect Israel…” He looked at the president. “Sir, are you saying we had something to do with Stuxnet?”
“That happened under another administration. Believe it or not, the president doesn’t get every bit of information, but yes, I believe that we had a hand in it—and let me answer the question you’re too polite to ask. Yes, if the opportunity came my way to knock out the Iranian nuclear refinement centers without sending a single armed man over the border, I would take it. Without hesitation. So I ask again. Did we do this to ourselves? Did we plant a worm that turned on us?”
“No, sir. I can’t see how. The effect is too wide and over too many systems. We didn’t do this to ourselves.”
“Then who did it to us?”
“I wish I could tell you. I’m taking a new approach, sir. I’ve learned all I can—and when I say ‘I’, I also mean my team, limited as it is. Now I’m trying to create a scenario in which I could replicate the problem. Each failure tells me what doesn’t work.”
“You’re trying to unleash another digital worm? Another Moriarty?”
“Not release it, sir. The computer and communications infrastructure is too damaged even if I wanted to do so. No, I’m trying to figure out what has to be done for the worm to be successful. I know the power outage was meant to reboot computer systems. And it’s not enough to just destroy computers and the power grid. Moriarty destroyed our ability to fix the damage.”
The president took several deep breaths and then closed his eyes. “Ever see the movie Things to Come?”
Jeremy shook his head and then asked, “As in the H.G. Wells novel?”
Barlow grinned. “I had you pegged as a sci-fi type. Yes, the movie was based on the Wells novel. I’m not surprised you haven’t seen it. It was made before you were born.” He chortled. “For that matter, it was made before I was born. 1936. Raymond Massey.”
“Was it a good movie?”
Barlow shrugged. “I suppose. For the time. Good is subjective. I thought it was boring. The story covers an entire century and predicts a world war in 1940. They got that part pretty much right. They weren’t even close on 1970, and who knows if they’ll be correct about 2036. In the movie, the war left the world desolate. People lived in burned-out, bombed-out buildings. Local leaders—the roughest and toughest people in the area—took control, making those around them little more than servants.”
“I think I know where you’re going with this, sir.”
“The movie and the book were off on the year, but they got the socia
l decay right.” Barlow’s gaze grew distant. “I got word this morning…the White House has been destroyed.”
“No.”
“I’m afraid so. A mob, probably starved out of their minds, stormed the place. Since I’m here, security was lighter than it would have been normally. The mob killed the few capitol police on duty.”
“Horrible. How bad is it?”
“Looted and burned to the ground.”
Jeremy closed his eyes and tried not to imagine the image. The effort was futile. His mind painted a bleak picture of the great building lying in ruin and dead security men unmoving on the ground. “It doesn’t seem possible.”
“Not the first time, General. During the War of 1812, the British occupied the capital in August of that year. British General Robert Ross called for the burning of all public buildings. Almost every building of the government came down, including the White House. To his credit, his men were only allowed to torch government buildings. In that sense, he saved the city from complete destruction.”
Barlow took a ragged breath. Jeremy heard a slight rattle. “It’s one thing to see the place burned by a foreign force, but to have our own citizens do it…I’m stunned. At the same time, I’m not surprised. We don’t have a great track record for dealing with natural disasters. We tend to throw money at the problem. Money is worthless now. So is gold. All the gold dealers who talked people into investing were wrong. No one cares. What is the father of three going to do with a gold nugget? Buy food? What would the seller need it for? A joke. A horrible, soul-grinding joke.”
He drew a finger under his eye. “A courier brought film of the place burning.” He shook his head. “Film, mind you. Not digital tape. Not many digital cameras working. A few, but not enough. I have no idea how they got the thing developed.”
“Can troops be sent in?”
“Why? It’s too late, General. The place is a smoldering mess. To protect some of these places, troops might have to fire on desperate citizens. This isn’t a bunch of malcontents or protestors; they’re desperate, pitiful people. I can’t imagine giving the order to fire on a crowd like that. Can you?”
“No, sir.”
“Some things are improving. I guess I should be thankful for that. Your submarine idea was a good one. The Russians, Chinese, and British have pressed their subs into service. Setting them up as radio relays was brilliant, Jeremy. Inspired. So was the advice to have only a portion on the surface at one time.” Jeremy had come up with the idea of a chain of submarines relaying radio messages over the ocean.
“There could still be satellites up there waiting to go off. I doubt it, Mr. President, but I can’t see exposing the few working assets we have.”
“With the subs spaced over the oceans and AWACs flying over the continent, we’re getting pretty good radio coverage. Not good enough, but at least our bases can talk to each other. Well, some of them can. The cable connections continue to hold with major countries.”
“Every step forward is something to be thankful for.”
Barlow nodded. “Are you praying for us, Jeremy?”
Jeremy blinked and cocked his head. “Sir?”
“You’re probably the most spiritual man in the mountain. I sensed that when you performed the memorial service for Baker. I don’t think I ever thanked you for that. If I haven’t, then thank you.”
“I am happy to help any way I can.”
“Good. Now answer the question.”
“Yes, sir. I pray for our country and I pray for you. Daily.”
“Good,” Barlow said softly. “Very good.” He seemed lost in thought. A moment later, “I have been too. God hasn’t heard from me very often, so He may not be taking my calls.”
“I’m sure you have His ear, sir.”
“If things don’t improve soon, many of our people are going to be living like they did in the first century. Water treatment plants are off-line, and so are sewage plants. Medicines have run out, and producing new ones is impossible without all the tech we’ve come to depend on. What was the life expectancy back then?”
“Much of it depended on what one did for a living. Priests and scholars often lived longer than those in farming and trades. Call it forty or so.”
Barlow thought for a few moments. “Jeremy, I’ve been a marginal Christian all my life. Like many politicians, it served me to speak of my belief in God and my commitment to Christ. Somehow, that seems inadequate now.”
“It sounds like your thinking has changed, sir.”
“I suppose it has. Well, not my thinking, but the way I look at faith.” He looked Jeremy square in the eye. “I know American history back and forth, but I know very little about biblical history or the Bible for that matter. Does the Bible describe what we’re going through?”
Another surprise question. “Yes, sir. It does. The more I know, the more I’ve come to believe that this might be in keeping with biblical prophecy.”
“When you get back, I want to hear about it.”
“Get back, sir?”
Barlow took another deep breath. More rattles. His skin paled. “I’ve…I’ve made a car available to you and a driver too. Go get your wife. And the boy. They…they tell me there’s a boy somehow involved. Bring them both.”
“Sir, the boy is not family—”
“Enough of that noise, General. Bring them both, and if anyone complains, send them to me.” He grimaced.
“Sir, are you okay?”
Nathan Barlow groaned. Raised his right hand to his chest. “Oh, no…”
The president of the United States slipped from the bench and fell to the floor.
Liam Burr watched the sunset. Normally he would pause to appreciate the beauty of the daily event, but his mind could concentrate only on what had taken place a short time ago. Had it been real? It must have been. The man calling himself Fred Pierce sat in one of the French chairs, his legs crossed, staring at Liam.
“Who are you?”
“I’ve already told you, Mr. Burr, my name is Fred Pierce.”
“I didn’t ask your name. I asked who you are.” Liam sat up. The room began to spin.
“You’ll want to take it easy, sir. You’ve had quite the fright.”
“That’s one way of putting it. What a dream. I must have passed out and—”
“No, sir. It was no dream. You have been called to change the world. Of course, as I understand it, you already had that on your agenda. It’s why you were chosen.”
“Chosen? I must admit, I didn’t like the recruitment technique.”
“I don’t imagine you did, but you need to take this seriously. Shade is not a being to mess with.”
“Odd choice of words.” Liam rubbed his eyes, hoping they would clear. They hurt from the frost that had coated them… how long ago? The sun was setting. He had been out for at least two hours.
“Odd? I suppose, but would you call Shade a man? No, siree. He’s much more than that.”
“Where is Benito? Where is my aide?”
“Dead, I suspect. That’s how Shade works.”
“No. I don’t believe that. Benito doesn’t die easily…” After what he just experienced the statement seemed foolish. “I have to find him.”
“You won’t. If Shade follows course, your man is nowhere to be found. Don’t ask. I have no idea. I’ve just seen his work before.”
The thought of Benito lying dead in some snowy field tugged at his normally icy heart. “Back to the question, Pierce. Who are you and what do you have to do with me?”
“I’m your new assistant. I’m here to help you achieve your goals—well, achieve Eli Shade’s goals. I specialize in communication, speech writing…that sort of thing. My job is to make you lovable and trustworthy.”
“And to make sure I cooperate.”
“No. Shade will do that. I’m just a humble wordsmith, among other things.”
“What things.”
“I’m pretty good with technology. That doesn’t matter now. What
does matter is that you understand what has just happened.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Sure.” Pierce leaned back in the chair and recrossed his legs. “You are dead to all your previous plans. Give up any idea of calling the shots. Sorry, does my American colloquialism confuse you?”
“I speak English and understand American.”
“Cute. My point is that you are now in the employ of Eli Shade. Cooperate, and you’ll have more wealth and power than you thought possible. Refuse, and Shade will make you sorry for it. Trust me on this.”
“You’ve experienced this?”
“You don’t want to know.”
Liam leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “I must be dreaming. Things like this don’t happen in the real world.”
“Look out the window.”
Liam did.
The shadow faces were back, so many of them he couldn’t see the sky behind them. He shot to his feet and backed to the wall. “I—I’ve lost my mind. This can’t be. No, I refuse to believe it.”
Pierce sighed loudly like a parent making a point and rose. He walked to the office door, unlocked it, and flung it open. “Look.”
“No. I can’t.”
“LOOK!”
When Liam refused to budge, Pierce took three long steps his direction, seized the front of his shirt and pulled him to the door. Liam was helpless to resist.
They were there. Eyeless but seeing. They filled the doorway and the hall outside. Gravity had no power on them. Some hovered upside down like tethered astronauts or sideways like lizards clinging to the wall.
“No. I refuse to believe.”
Pierce moved Liam closer.
“Please, no more. I believe. I believe. No closer, please.”
Pierce released Liam and closed the door, twisting the lock. “You should probably sit down again. You look a little pale. Not that I blame you. I soiled myself the first time.”
“You’re not one of them?”
“I’m one of you, if you catch my drift. I’m just a little more adaptive than you. You’ll get used to the idea. You won’t like it, but you’ll get used to it.”
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