METEOR STORM

by David Capps

  “John,” Alex said, “something is coming in you need to see.” He turned back to his console and typed at the keyboard. The large display in the center of the long wall switched over to a breaking news story. I was horrified to see my picture on the screen.

  “Federal authorities are looking for this man, Carl Palminteri, who appeared on the Cy Cobb Show yesterday morning. He is wanted for questioning in connection with a known terrorist organization and is possibly involved in a terrorist plot against the U.S. Government. If you see him, do not approach him yourself. He is considered extremely dangerous. If you see this man, call the FBI, the U.S. Marshal’s Office, or inform any law enforcement officer immediately.”

  I started to wobble and tip to the right side. I reached out my right hand and rested against an equipment cabinet for support. “John… I…”

  “Hey, it’s all right,” John said. “I know who you are. You’re not a terrorist. Come on, sit down.”

  I stumbled forward into a chair Alex was holding for me. The room was starting to spin.

  “Head down between your legs,” Alex said firmly. “Breathe.” He gently pushed me forward and down. I was staring at the floor and it seemed to be spinning, too. “That’s right,” he said. “Easy does it. Breathe.”

  In a few minutes the spinning slowed and stopped. I gradually sat up.

  “We need to get some food in you, too,” John said. He and Alex helped me up the stairs and into a chair at the kitchen table. “I got it,” John said. Alex went back down into the communications room and closed the door.

  John threw a steak on the grill and cooked two eggs and hash browns. I felt a lot better after the food and coffee.

  “How much biometric data do they have on you?” John asked.

  “Pretty much everything.”

  “Did they have fingerprint cards or were they scanned?”

  “Both.”

  “Retinal scan?”

  “Yep.”

  “DNA?”

  “Yeah, the whole nine yards. I told you what I did. They don’t let you anywhere near that level of access without knowing everything about you.”

  “How would you feel about us reinventing you?” he asked.

  “I’m okay with it, wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “But this time it’s going to be quite a bit more serious. Everybody’s looking for your face. We need to change that.”

  “Isn’t that expensive?”

  “That’s relative to the benefits,” he replied.

  “It’s gotta beat going back to prison,” I said.

  He pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number. “Dr. Hamuz. I’ve got a special project if you’re interested. Yes, the expedited fee schedule is fine. Thank you, I’ll see you tonight.”

  CHAPTER 6

  My surgery took place in the middle of the night at a private clinic in Aurora, Colorado. I awoke feeling like road-kill. The nurse took my blood pressure, temperature and oxygen saturation measurements, recording them on her chart.

  “How do you feel?” she asked.

  “Like I’ve been beat up, you?”

  She smiled. “I’ve got pain medication for you. Everything went well. You will experience some swelling and soreness that will resolve over the next week to ten days. Get plenty of rest. Be very careful with your hands for the next forty eight hours. The micro-surgery is delicate and needs to be undisturbed for two days. After that you can take the bandages off. No heavy lifting or strenuous activity for a week. Any questions?”

  I looked at my hands. They were bandaged up to my wrists. “How do I work with my hands like this?”

  “You don’t,” she said. “You will need some help eating today and tomorrow. Soft foods only.”

  I sighed. “Any more good news?”

  “Yes. Your driver is waiting outside. It’s time for you to leave so I can clean up before the clinic opens for the day.”

  “I guess a thank you is in order, so thank you for your care.” I got up, still feeling a little queasy and unstable.

  “You’re welcome,” she said. “Here, let me help you.”

  She helped me walk out the back door of the clinic. John’s limo was there with the driver holding the car door open. Once I settled into the back seat, the nurse handed me a white paper bag with the medication in it.

  “Directions are inside. John will let us know if there are any complications.” She closed the car door and went back into the clinic.

  “I’ve got another guest to pick up on the way back. I hope you don’t mind,” the driver said.

  “Whatever.”

  He drove to the private airport that John used for his jet. He pulled inside John’s hangar and parked with the front of the limo facing the open hangar door. Within two minutes I recognized John’s Learjet 45 landing. It taxied over and swung into the hangar. Once it stopped the door to the plane opened and a young lady emerged carrying a suitcase. She was slim, and a little on the tall side with short blonde hair, nicely styled. She wore a medium blue skirt, white silk blouse, a wide black leather belt with shoes to match. I liked what I saw. A lot.

  The driver got out, put her suitcase in the trunk and opened the door for her. I smiled as she started to get into the limo. “Hi,” I said, “I’m…”

  She pulled back with a shocked look on her face. That’s when I realized I needed to look at my new face in a mirror.

  “Oh… I… uhh…” she said as she stepped back from the limo, still staring at me. I stared back. She had the most unusual eyes I had ever seen. The right eye was a brilliant blue and the left eye was a sultry brown. It was strikingly beautiful.

  The driver intervened. “Tia, this is Carl. He just had facial reconstructive surgery last night. He’s John’s special guest.”

  She stared at me a moment longer. I tried to smile and held my hand out. She looked down at the bandages.

  “Uhh… probably not a good idea,” she said. “Maybe later, okay?”

  I felt incredibly stupid and awkward. I pulled back close to the door, trying to give her as much space inside the limo as I could. She cautiously got in and the driver closed the door. She glanced over at me, apprehension clearly displayed on her face. Something about me frightened her. I just couldn’t imagine what it might be. It was a long two and a half hour ride back up into the mountains to John’s cabin. Each of us sat close to the door on our own side of the limo looking out the window. The silence was so thick I didn’t think a jackhammer could penetrate it.

  * * *

  “Oh good. You’re both here,” John said as we walked in the door. “So did you have a chance to get acquainted on the drive up here?”

  I didn’t look at her and she didn’t look at me. John glanced back and forth between us.

  “I see,” he said. “Well, you better get over it. You two are going to be working closely together. You have more in common than you think. Carl, the young lady is Tia Harkensen. She is our computer specialist.”

  I snapped my head over and looked at her. She glanced back at me.

  “Does she… Did you…” I stammered.

  “I haven’t said anything about you to her or anyone else,” John said. “I thought I’d leave that up to the two of you.”

  I relaxed a bit. She stared back at me, apparently wondering what she was missing.

  “Tia, you have your usual room. Once you get settled in, why don’t you join us down in the communications room?” John said.

  Without saying a word, she headed up the stairs.

  I went up to my room and looked in the mirror. No wonder she reacted like that. I was missing part of my eyebrows, with surgical sutures at the lower edge. My forehead was swollen from what I presumed were implants of some kind. I could tell where they were from the dark purple marks. My cheek bones had also obviously been altered. They, too, were dark purple. I had bruising along the bottom of my jaw bone on both sides and on my chin. The rest of my face appeared stark white against the colorful display looking
back at me in the mirror. I ran my tongue around the inside of my cheeks and lower mouth. More sutures. To avoid a telltale scar, the surgeon had gone in through the inside of my mouth. Clever, but it certainly increased the difficulty level for eating. As I studied my new face the thought ran through my mind: Frankenstein’s monster probably got a better deal. She must have thought I just came out of a Mixed Martial Arts fight. No wonder she looked so apprehensive. She must think I’m some mindless goon. Any real assessment of my new face would have to wait until everything healed.

  * * *

  John and I were looking down at the robot’s head, discussing where we should set everything up when Tia pushed the padded door open. She had changed clothes. She was wearing blue jeans, a blue plaid shirt and running shoes. John motioned her over.

  “Tia, you’ve got two projects here. The first is a new identity for Carl, and the second is this,” John said, as he pointed down into the wooden box.

  Tia’s face lit up as she saw the robot’s head. “Where on Earth did you find this?” she asked.

  John looked at me and smiled.

  “Actually,” I said, “NASA found it on the Moon.”

  “Oh my God,” she exclaimed, “are you kidding me? How did we end up with it?” She looked at John, who looked at me. She turned to face me, her head cocked slightly to the side. As she stared at me her shoulders dropped slightly.

  “You worked for NASA,” she said.

  “Yep. JPL in Pasadena actually, but I was an employee of NASA.”

  She looked closer at my face.

  “Reconstructive surgery, NASA.” She looked down at the robot’s head in the box and then back at me. “Oh my God. The Cy Cobb Show. The terrorist alert. It’s you.”

  “Now you know why we need a new identity for Carl,” John replied.

  “The meteor storm,” she said. “That’s why you’re here with John.”

  I smiled and looked into her beautiful eyes.

  “When is it coming?” she asked.

  “We don’t know exactly,” I replied. “That’s why we need your help with the robot’s head.” I held up my bandaged hands.

  The look of understanding flooded across her face. “Okay, I get it,” she said. “Look, about earlier, I…”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I finally got a look at my face in the mirror. I totally understand. So, are you up for this?”

  “Oh yeah,” she replied. “Big time. John, this is huge.”

  “That’s why I called you,” John said. “I need the very best people on this project, and you’re it.”

  “Thank you,” she replied. “As much as I want to dig into the robot’s head first, I think we need to get on Carl’s new identity more.”

  “My thoughts precisely,” John responded as he walked away.

  I sat with Tia at a computer in the communications room.

  “What cities are you familiar with, you know, like street layout, parks, places?” she asked.

  “Well, I grew up in San Diego, but we spent several summers in Milwaukee with my mom’s sister.”

  “Milwaukee, huh,” she said. “That might work.” She studied my face. I could see the first hint of a smile forming around her beautiful lips. “I think once the swelling goes down you just might pass for Germanic descent. We can keep the first name, just change the spelling, like with a ‘K’ instead of a ‘C’.” She thought some more while staring at me. “Something regal, I think, that would suit you. What do you think of Koenig? Karl Koenig.”

  I was having trouble focusing on what she was saying. I was so taken by her presence and her personality my mind kept wandering. “Koenig is German for King, isn’t it?” I asked.

  “Slightly different spelling, but, yes, and I like the alliteration,” she replied. She smiled at me. It felt like there was static electricity in the air. She actually liked me.

  “I do, too,” I replied. “Let’s go with it.”

  She typed the new name into the program she used for new identities.

  “When is your birthday?” Her smile was definitely getting bigger.

  “August eighteenth.” I smiled back at her.

  “Leo,” she said looking me over again. “Okay, most people can’t tell the difference between a Leo and a Taurus, so how about something in early May?”

  “May third?” I leaned a little closer to her. “So you’re into horoscopes and sun signs?”

  “And a number of alternative thinking type subjects. How about you?”

  “Always been thinking outside the box,” I replied. “Never quite got mainstream.” We just sat there looking into each other’s eyes for several minutes. “So, May third?”

  “Okay,” she replied looking slightly embarrassed by the long break. “We can keep the same year. How about height?” She looked me over from head to foot. She seemed to like what she saw.

  “Just under five eight.”

  She smiled some more and took a quick breath. “And weight?”

  “One fifty five.” I replied, nudging slightly closer to her.

  “Okay, light brown hair, sparkling blue eyes, Caucasian. Corrective lenses?”

  “No. I can see just fine.”

  “The photo and finger prints will have to wait for you to heal up, but I can get started with this. I’ll give you a printout of the background for you to memorize, once I get it all done. It’ll take about a week to create and embed all of the background data, and then we can add the photo and fingerprints.”

  “So I’m going to get a new driver’s license?” I couldn’t help but smile at her.

  “And Passport, Social Security Number, birth certificate, credit cards, bank accounts, magazine subscriptions, utility bills, past employment history, everything.”

  “And the authorities won’t be able to tell them from the real thing?” I asked.

  “The way we do it, they will be the real thing. When you have skills, you let the system make the documents for you.”

  “By skills, you mean hacking into computer systems?” I asked.

  She pulled back from me. I had asked something too personal, but I had to know. There was so much she didn’t know about me and I had to get some kind of a feel for how she felt or might react to what she might learn about me. “There’s more to it than that, but yes, skills include hacking.”

  “You got started early?” I asked, pushing the issue a bit more.

  She stopped and looked at me. I could see the debate going on inside her mind, wondering just how much she should reveal to me. She had to wonder why I was asking, and whether she could really trust me.

  “Grade school,” she said, as she looked back at the computer screen. “With the two-color eye thing, I didn’t have a lot of friends. That all changed in junior-high. I had one close friend who worked in the school office and supplied me with the school’s computer password for the week. I became the go-to person for all the popular kids in school, you know, for fixing grades.”

  I laughed out loud. She stopped and stared at me again. This time she looked angry.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I totally understand. Really, I do.”

  She changed the subject and went back to work on my new identity. I could see I had pushed her a little too much. She wiped a wisp of her blonde hair back over her left ear and continued typing. John said we had more in common than we thought, and he was right. We were both people with skills.

  CHAPTER 7

  After two weeks my face had healed, but my eyebrows were still a little spotty. Tia had used her eyebrow pencil to fill them in. She photographed me, scanned my fingerprints, and embedded the information in the various files she had created for my new identity. Within another two weeks official identity documents were arriving. That progress was counterbalanced with a lack of identifying the timing of the meteor storm. Day after day and long into the night hours, we asked questions of the robot’s head. We learned the ancient civilization had flourished for more than 10,000 years and was known as t
he Rama Empire.

  While massive glaciers had covered most of northern Europe, North America and what is now Russia, the ocean level was remarkably lower than it is now. A fertile and prosperous valley thrived with 400 million people and thousands of cities where India, the Middle East and the Mediterranean Sea is now. With the end of the last ice age came rising sea levels and eventually the Mediterranean valley was flooded with sea water.

  The only thing we learned about the meteor storm from the robot’s head was that it had happened in late summer. That meant it would be either this summer, in about three months’ time, or next year, some fifteen months away.

  “I’ve invited an old friend to join us,” John explained. “I’ve kept him apprised of what we have found out about the ancient civilization in India and the Mediterranean valley. He says that our information about India is consistent with the stories in the Vedas, but the Mediterranean valley was a complete shock to him.”

  “Does he know about the robot’s head?” I asked.

  “No,” John said, “and I’d like to keep it that way, at least for now.”

  “So does he know about the meteor storm and when it will happen?”

  “No, he doesn’t,” John replied. “But he may be able to get us to where that information still exists.”

  Tia and I looked at each other and back to John. “Are you telling me that there are records of the last meteor storm somewhere?”

  “Maybe,” John said. “He may be our last hope of finding out when the meteor storm will happen. He’s due here any minute and he doesn’t know about the communications room, either, so we need to go upstairs and meet him there.”

  Tia and I followed John up into the main room. About that time John’s limo pulled up in front. A somewhat portly man with short white hair, a stubbly white beard and thick rimmed glasses climbed out of the back seat of the limo. He wore an old fashioned three piece pin-striped suit that looked at least twenty years old with as many miles on it. He also carried a beat-up tattered brief case bleached light tan by exposure to the sun and other elements. He had a reddish complexion, blue eyes and the bulbous nose of someone who was fast friends with alcohol.