Days' End

by Scott L Collins

  Other major headlines included the ongoing cleanup processes in both China and on the U.S. East Coast. The chemical spill that the Chinese government continued to deny was almost entirely cleaned up from what could be seen in satellite images. There were no official casualty numbers, but the unofficial estimates put out by the United States government were disturbingly high. Rebuilding and repairs on the East Coast continued to be a difficult process due to the damaged infrastructure. People and equipment from all over the country were being driven and flown in to assist in the efforts.

  Alastair skimmed through the rest of the paper, found nothing interesting, and set it aside for his dad. He went to the kitchen and made a couple of sandwiches for their lunch, bringing them back to the coffee table along with some chips, salsa, and two sodas. When his father got out of the shower and had dressed, they sat eating lunch while Alastair summarized what he’d read in the paper.

  “Not looking good, is it Dad?” Alastair asked.

  “Well,” his dad said, chewing his lower lip, “at least we haven’t seen anything that hints at the seventh sign. Maybe this will stop for a while. Maybe humanity will get its act together and this will stop for a long while.”

  “If that’s what it’s going to take I might as well start drinking again,” answered Alastair. “If the fate of humanity is up to us humans, we’re all doomed.” He leaned back on the couch and sipped his Mountain Dew. “But if we can at least buy some more time to find Nysa by holding hands and singing ‘Kumbayah,’ I’m all for it.”

  His father leaned back next to him. “We’ll just do the best we can. That’s all the Good Lord asks of us.”

  They flew back to Colorado on the twelfth, once again arriving too late to go to Mr. Stevens’ office.

  October 10, Castle Rock, CO

  Alastair and his father were waiting for Mr. Stevens when he arrived at his offices. They approached as he walked to his door.

  “Mr. Stevens?” Alastair asked.

  “Good morning, Mr. Mann. I recognize your voice,” responded the lawyer. “I can’t help but say this is an unexpected visit. Please come inside. We can talk in my office. Would you like something to drink, some coffee perhaps?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Alastair said.

  “Yes, please,” his father answered as they entered the building. The reception area was small but comfortable. The receptionist’s desk was rather large, clean, and very polished. There was a waiting area off to their left containing a table surrounded by four chairs. Another six were lined up against the wall. The artwork that decorated the walls contained paintings of various mountains and wildlife in the nearby Rockies.

  “Tracy,” Mr. Stevens said, turning toward his secretary, “could you please bring some coffee into my office? Three cups and some cream and sugar as well. Thank you.” The lawyer led them into a large and comfortable office. It was obvious from the décor that Mr. Stevens ran an extremely successful practice. From the mahogany desk and bookcases to the matching leather chairs and couch, the office was classy without being over the top. The bookcases were overflowing with law books, the message light on Mr. Stephen’s phone blinked, and a stack of message pads was piled neatly next to the telephone. Other than those pieces of paper, the desk was immaculate. As they sat Mr. Stevens asked, “I’m sorry, but may I ask who you are, sir?” He indicated Alastair’s father.

  “Carl. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Alastair’s father,” he replied while shaking the attorney’s hand. Just then the door opened and Tracy entered the office carrying a tray. On it sat a pot of coffee, three cups, a jar of sugar, and creamer. She set them gently on the corner of her boss’s desk and quietly left the room, pausing to close the door behind her.

  “How may I help you gentlemen today?”

  “We’re still looking for Nysa, Mr. Stevens. We tracked her to the Colorado Springs airport but have been unable to find where she went from there. I’m inclined to guess she’s not far from here, but I need your help.”

  “I’m sorry you wasted your time, but as I told you on the phone, I am not allowed to divulge her whereabouts. I’m not quite sure how you tracked her to the airport, but I’m willing to speculate it was at the very least in the gray areas of the law.”

  Alastair and his father exchanged a quick glance.

  The lawyer continued. “When the project is done, I’m sure you will hear from her as soon as she’s free to call you. Is there anything else? I have a busy schedule today and I’d like to get started.”

  “Mr. Stevens, are you a religious man?” Carl asked.

  “I don’t see the relevance of your question, sir.”

  “I’m just wondering, because if you are, you might be interested in why our search cannot wait until the project is completed.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I haven’t been to church since I was a child. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

  Alastair looked to his father who merely shrugged and set his coffee cup down on the table.

  “Thank you for your time, Mr. Stevens. May God have mercy on your soul,” Carl said softly.

  Carl and Alastair stood to leave but paused at the quizzical look on the lawyer’s face.

  “Why did you say that?” asked Mr. Stevens. “While I’m not religious, you’ve piqued my curiosity as to why you think my immortal soul would be in jeopardy because I won’t disclose the location of my client’s labs.”

  “I thought you had a busy day ahead of you,” Carl retorted. “We wouldn’t want to keep your other clients waiting.”

  The lawyer gave them his undivided attention. “I’ll worry about my schedule, thank you. Please, sit back down and say your piece so I can go about my business with no future interruptions.”

  Carl started relating the current events and their biblical significance while the lawyer sat quietly behind his desk listening intently. Carl rehashed the discussions he and Alastair had engaged in regarding the first few signs and whether or not they were just coincidental. His monologue became more passionate as he moved on to the fourth and concluded with the fifth sign.

  “Very well spoken, sir,” the attorney stated when Carl had finished. “I’m not going to tell you I believe the world is coming to an end, but you make a very compelling argument. Assuming for the moment that what you say is true, what makes you think my client’s project has anything to do with it?”

  “We’re not saying it does, Mr. Stevens,” Alastair blurted out. “What we’re saying is if that is what’s happening, I want to be with Nysa when the end comes. It can’t all end before I see her again. I have to be able to tell her at least one more time that I love her. Please, Mr. Stevens, please tell me where she is.”

  “I can’t do that, Mr. Mann, but I appreciate your resolve. I’ll tell you what I will do. I will take your concerns to my client and let him make the decision. I will relay your evidence, circumstantial though it may be, of the End of Days. If he sees a reason or has the compassion to allow you to see Dr. Knight, I will notify you directly. That’s the best I can do.”

  “Can’t you just tell us where the facility is? I don’t want to waste any more time, I don’t know how much we have left.” Alastair couldn’t disguise the pleading tone in his voice.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Mann, I can’t divulge the location of the facility to anybody. Besides, even if I did tell you where it is, you wouldn’t be able to get in. The security is much too tight. Even if you got passed the armed guards, which I doubt, we had a very unique security program written for the compound. It’s impenetrable. All I can do for you is what I’ve already offered. It’s that or nothing, the decision is yours.” Alastair could hear the finality in his voice.

  “Thank you very much, Mr. Stevens,” Carl replied. “If that’s the best you can do, we’ll have to accept it. We appreciate your time and understanding.” He gave the lawyer the phone number to the hotel they were staying at. “And thank you for the coffee,” he said setting down his cup again. “I
t was very good.”

  “My pleasure. I will be in contact with you soon.”

  Alastair and his father got up, shook hands with the attorney, and exited the office, saying goodbye to the receptionist on the way out. She was busy typing some sort of document on her computer and didn’t turn as they walked past her desk. Alastair did a double take at her computer monitor. There in the bottom right corner of her screen was an icon he recognized.

  He bit his lip and continued out the front door. It took all of his willpower to keep from jumping in the air and yelling once they stepped outside. He had to wait until they were away from the offices. He couldn’t afford to alert them to what he’d found out.

  On their way back to the hotel they stopped at a small café they had seen on the way in. Alastair and Carl stepped through the front door of the café into one of two dining rooms. The two men inhaled deeply, enjoying the strong smells of coffee and bacon. To their left was a row of booths and on the right was an enormous mirror overlooking an onyx and marble bar. Alastair had to smile at the fact that, however beautiful the bar might be, the red vinyl bar stools were what caught his eye. Hanging on the wood-paneled walls over the booths were newspaper articles and photographs recounting the history of Castle Rock and the restaurant itself.

  Making their way to the back of the room and turning right into the second main dining area Alastair smiled in surprise by the contrast in décor. Although the walls of this room were also covered in framed newspaper articles and pictures of the town, the walls were brick instead of wood. After ordering, Alastair sat admiring the quaintness of the room. He sipped his coffee and studied the intricate details of the pressed-tin tiles of the ceiling. He smiled to himself yet again and took another sip of coffee as their breakfast was at last delivered. Over what turned out to be quite a delicious meal of eggs, bacon, hashed browns, and toast, they rehashed their meeting with Mr. Stevens.

  “Not quite what I’d hoped for,” said Alastair, “but more than I expected. Thanks for your help in there. You really caught him off guard with your concern for his ‘immortal soul.’”

  Carl chuckled. “It’s interesting that people who claim to be atheists still show concern when you put it the right way. Maybe I should have been a preacher,” he joked. “Oh, that’s right, I was!”

  Alastair smiled as he polished off the last of his bacon. “Let’s go back to the hotel for a nap. I’m about to slip into a food coma.”

  “I saw something that I think will help,” Alastair said softly as they meandered slowly back to the hotel, enjoying the sights and sounds of the small town.

  “What? I didn’t see anything.” Carl stopped and looked at his son.

  “Come on. Keep walking.” They both turned and continued down the sidewalk. “On the secretary’s computer I saw an icon I recognized. It’s for a program I wrote called Unique. I didn’t think it would ever be used. It may be a way for us to find Nysa. I’m not sure how yet, but maybe it will be useful.”

  “So what? She’s got a program on her computer. I still don’t understand what the big revelation is.”

  Alastair stopped and faced his father. “I wrote that program. It was just after I sobered up. It was my first big project. It helped me get back on the right track. I wrote that program!” He could still see the blank look on his father’s face. “If I wrote it I know how to get around it.” Carl’s look of questioning was replaced by one of skepticism. “Listen, I know you won’t like hearing this but I’ll tell you anyway. Sometimes programmers like to leave themselves a backdoor into the program in case they ever need to access it again. Usually nobody but the programmer knows about it. I wrote that program, Dad. I wrote a backdoor into it. If I can find the facility, and I can access the security system, I can shut it down for as long as I need to find Nysa.”

  “But how do we find it? We’re not any closer to finding the actual location than we were when we left Mr. Stevens’ office.” They began moving swiftly back down the sidewalk toward the hotel.

  “I don’t know, but when we do, I know I can get in. That’s something at least. I know it’s not much, but it’s a start. So even if Mr. Scario won’t let me see Nysa, at least I have something to work with. We’ll find her, I know we will. We have to.”

  Alastair and his father spent the next couple of weeks in their hotel room. Alastair felt compelled to brush up on his computer code and refresh his knowledge of the Unique program. Not having any computer background, Carl had nothing to do and so spent his time touring the small town and taking in its charm while they awaited a call from Mr. Stevens. After having explored the inside of every shop and restaurant along both Wilcox and Perry Streets, he began to broaden the scope of their tour. He hiked up to the top of Castle Rock, chatting with other people on the trail and enjoying the weather and the view. He went to the local Castle of Terror for Halloween fun, and filled his time with anything he could find that looked even remotely interesting. A trip on the Cog Railway in Manitou Springs was especially exhilarating as the old time railroad climbed up the side of Pike’s Peak to the summit. In the front seat of the first car, Carl sat awestruck at the scenery on the way up. Pulling into the station at the top, however, was a different story. Carl watched the end of the track in front of him disappear below the bottom of the large window frame as they pulled in. Beyond it was nothing but sky as far as Carl could tell. His heart hammered in his chest as the train slowed to a crawl and gently bumped the guardrail. He asked the man at the controls how hard he’d have to hit the guard in order to bust through it. The young man laughed and replied, “Not very,” then walked off the train. Carl nearly vomited.

  October 15,

  Outside Castle Rock, CO

  The young J.D. stood in the large office awaiting his employer’s arrival. The walls were lined with books. The desk in the middle of the room made him cringe. It was covered with scraps of paper in no apparent order. Pieces had slipped off and sat crumpled on the floor. Mr. Stevens clasped his hands together to resist the temptation to rearrange the desk in a manner that he believed to be more fitting to a man of Scario’s stature.

  His gaze continued to wander the room, passing over the computer on the desk, the tall chair sitting behind it. The walls were adorned with priceless artwork. As wealthy as the young attorney knew his employer to be, he still couldn’t imagine how anyone could afford all the pieces he saw displayed. If Scario could afford these pieces in his office, Stevens wondered what was hanging in his home. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Mr. Scario silently entered the room and spoke.

  “Mr. Stevens, how nice to see you again. How are you this morning?”

  “Quite well, Mr. Scario, and you?”

  “Getting better by the minute. May I offer you something to eat or drink? Did you have an opportunity to eat breakfast yet? I can have something brought down for you.”

  “No, thank you, sir. I’ve already eaten.”

  “Coffee then?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Very well then, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Mr. Scario as he sat down in one of his plush recliners.

  “I had an unexpected visit the other day from Dr. Knight’s fiancé,” said Mr. Stevens, still standing across from him. “He’s desperate to see her.”

  “Mr. Stevens,” interrupted Scario, “please sit down. You’re so formal. Thank you. Now, please continue.”

  “He was waiting for me when I arrived at my office in Castle Rock last Wednesday. He was upset. His father relayed a story of the impending demise of mankind. I must say, he was quite convincing.” Mr. Stevens went on to relay the content of their conversation.

  “What did you tell them?” asked Scario, slowly tracing the line of the scar on his throat with his thumb. “I hope you didn’t violate my trust in you.”

  “No sir, Mr. Scario. I told them that I would pass along their concerns and Mr. Mann’s request to see Dr. Knight and that the decision would be up to you.”

  “Out of curiosity, wh
y your Castle Rock office? Dr. Knight is from Los Angeles, and I would venture to guess he is as well. Why not your L.A. office?”

  “From what my receptionist told me, he did go to my L.A. office. She told him I was out here for a couple weeks. That was last Monday.”

  “Did he say anything else?” Scario was now glaring at his attorney, and his agitation was obvious. He had leaned forward in his chair and although his hands were folded, the younger man could see the whitening knuckles of his employer.

  Although used to high pressure situations, the lawyer was beginning to sweat. For some reason, Mr. Scario seemed distressed. Normally Mr. Stevens wouldn’t be bothered by another’s anger, but this was his biggest client, and Mr. Scario was used to getting his way. When he didn’t, he could be a little…vindictive was the word that popped into the young lawyer’s mind. Once he had seen Scario lose a poker game to someone. Within a month, he bought the company the man worked for, merely for the satisfaction of firing him. Stevens did not want to be the focal point of this man’s displeasure.

  “He said he had tracked her to the Colorado Springs Airport, but couldn’t find out where she went from there.”

  “Did he mention how he acquired that information?” Scario asked.

  “No, sir.”

  “Any ideas?”

  “No, sir.”

  “I’m assuming he left contact information with you. May I have it?”

  “Yes, sir.” Stevens handed over the paper with the hotel phone number on it.