Linkage (The Narrows of Time Series Book 1)

by Jay J. Falconer

“Then what?”

  “I recorded the scene. Here’s what I shot,” Lucas said, clicking the PLAY button on his laptop’s screen. “Notice how there’s a complete lack of rubble and blood. Only body parts. Clearly, this wasn’t an explosion. Despite what the police think, I doubt a terrorist cell could’ve caused this type of destruction.”

  Kleezebee gasped and then turned away when the close-up shot of Jasmine’s severed torso appeared on the screen. “Okay, enough. I get the picture.”

  Lucas canceled the rest of the playback, then queued up the Channel 9 news video before asking Kleezebee, “Did you hear about the energy field that leveled the mall this morning?”

  Kleezebee nodded, his eyes squinting.

  Lucas played the video footage. “This was shot from one of Channel 9’s news helicopters. Notice the dome’s transparent crown and how it lets us see what’s happening inside. It may be a possible weakness or an entry point that could be exploited somehow. Inside, you can see matter as it’s stripped from the Earth, then it gets twisted and compacted before being sucked through the vortex.” He stopped the playback just before the grand finale.

  “Did you notice any change in air pressure following the event?” Kleezebee asked.

  Lucas didn’t expect that question, taking a second to frame a response. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I did—both times. It felt like I was being pulled toward ground zero, not pushed.”

  Kleezebee smirked, as if he’d expected the answer.

  “There’s something else you might find interesting,” Lucas said, replaying the last few seconds of the video. He froze the recording just after the camera zoomed in and revealed the pyramid-shaped heap of tissue and bones. “The energy field leaves behind some form of bio-excretion when it dissipates.”

  Lucas double-clicked his laptop mouse pad to replay the video file containing the theater’s flash event. He fast-forwarded to the very end, and then paused the recording on a scene showing the black powder sitting inside the crater. He looked at his brother. “Grab the sample.”

  Drew opened his backpack and took out a plastic container. He gave Kleezebee the sample of black powder.

  “We found the same black residue inside the reactor core after E-121 vanished,” Lucas said.

  “Did you analyze it?” Kleezebee asked.

  “Yeah, with Griffith’s mass spectrometer across the hall,” Drew replied. “But the results were inconclusive. It didn’t detect any chemical or organic compounds. It’s as if it doesn’t even exist.”

  Kleezebee held up the container and shook it before his eyes, much like Drew had done earlier in the lab.

  “We also found the same substance inside the theater’s crater, and it was all over the mall today after the energy field tore across campus,” Lucas said.

  Kleezebee opened the container and smelled the residue before rubbing some of it between his fingers. “It certainly appears E-121’s disappearance is somehow linked to the two incidents on campus. Wouldn’t you agree?” he asked Lucas.

  “Yeah, it does. Have you ever seen a substance like this before, Professor?”

  “Once, a long time ago, when I was about ten years older than you are now. We never were able to identify it,” Kleezebee replied, closing the lid to the container. “I’d like to run this by an old friend to see what he can make of it. Substance identification has come a long way in the past fifty years and maybe he might be able to tell us what it is.”

  “There’s one more thing you should know,” Drew said. “Right before E-121 vanished in the reactor’s core, there was a massive power surge.”

  “How massive?”

  “Hard to say. It was off the chart.”

  “Give me an estimate.”

  “Based on the power acceleration curve, and factoring in the composition and density of E-121 and its receptacle, I’d say at least six times 1031 terajoules.”

  “That’s over a trillion times more energy than our sun releases in an hour. How is that possible?”

  “I don’t know. But that’s what the values indicate.”

  “What was the source of the spike?”

  Drew shrugged. “We have no idea.”

  “Was it from some type of cascading reaction?”

  “We don’t think so,” Lucas answered. “We reviewed all the data, but found nothing to suggest that. I just don’t see how our experiment could’ve generated that level of energy. It wasn’t designed for anything close to that.”

  “I hope you realize I can’t just cover this up. We’ll have to report everything to the Advisory Committee, and to the authorities. Larson is going to want your heads on a silver platter, and I don’t think I can protect you from that festering pustule of a man.”

  “We understand, Professor,” Lucas replied in a solemn voice.

  “I need you to put together a copy of all the evidence and get it to me ASAP. I want to review it with my colleagues on the committee and get everyone’s input.”

  Lucas retrieved the thumb drive from his pocket and gave it to Kleezebee. “It’s all on here, boss, including the data logs.” He was hopeful the committee’s senior professors would be able to assist. Two of them were Nobel Laureates who had won for the prize for physics.

  Just before he walked out the door, Kleezebee turned and said, “Let’s meet tomorrow morning in your lab. 9 a.m. We can sit down and go through the data together.”

  “How are we supposed to get past the roadblocks? The military’s never going to let us through,” Lucas said.

  “I’ll figure something out and let you know in the morning.”

  ELEVEN

  Monday, December 24

  The next morning Lucas untangled his feet from the sheets and flew out of bed when the wall phone rang, waking him from a deep sleep.

  “Who the hell is calling so damn early?” Lucas groaned in a rusty, thready voice, hearing his brother stirring in the bed across from his. “It better not be another one of those damn political polls.”

  He stumbled in the dark to the main room and lifted the receiver. He intended to be rude to the caller but changed his mind at the last second, just in case it was someone he knew. “Lucas Ramsay speaking.”

  “Lucas, I’m glad you’re up. It’s DL. I don’t have time to explain, but the meeting’s been changed to seven a.m. I’ve already sent a car to get you. It’ll be there shortly. Make sure you bring Trevor along. Understood?”

  “You got it, Professor; see you then,” Lucas replied, his head still running in slow motion after the call woke him up. His lips had answered on their own before his brain had a chance to store the information relayed by his boss. He called the mental condition Autopilot Amnesia—a curse of intellectuals who disappear into their own thoughts on a moment’s notice, while carrying on in the physical world like normal people.

  He took a second to replay Kleezebee’s words, finding them rattling around inside his head as fading echoes of reality. He was able to latch onto them and memorize the details before they vanished from his thoughts completely.

  The fact that he’d been able to doze off the night before was something of a miracle after everything that happened. The events kept replaying over and over in his mind like some miraculous breakaway goal in the Stanley Cup Playoffs. Somewhere along the way his eyes finally closed and his brain shut off, letting him drift off into the blissful state of unconsciousness. His decision to finally tell Kleezebee everything probably had something to do with it.

  Confession is good for the soul.

  He was thankful for the bounty of shuteye, because facing another day with the load of blood on his hands wasn’t going to be easy. The last thing he needed was to be dragging his body around like the walking dead.

  Lucas went across the main room and stuck his head into the doorway of their bedroom. “Hey, Drew! Get your ass up. Kleezebee’s changed the meeting to seven.”

  Drew stirred momentarily under the covers, but didn’t respond.

  “Dude! Get up! We need to
get moving, now!”

  “Okay. Okay. I heard you the first time,” his brother said, turning over and sitting up.

  Lucas turned to face the refrigerator, which was just outside the door to their bedroom. He snatched the broom next to the fridge, then walked to the center of the room and rammed it into the ceiling three times to call Trevor. A few seconds later, the broom was stored away and the fridge was open. He found a can of grape soda sitting on the top shelf. He grabbed it, tapping the top of the can with his finger five times before popping the tab. Three powerful gulps later, the can was empty.

  “Nectar of the gods,” he said after letting out a thunderous belch that rattled his throat.

  “Nice one,” Drew said, cruising into the room in his chair. His hair was sticking out in all sorts of directions. “Do you know why DL changed the meeting?”

  “Nope, not a clue,” Lucas said, tossing the aluminum can in the recycle bin. “Where’s our notebook?”

  “It’s on the desk.”

  Lucas found the red and blue spiral notebook right where his brother said it was. He slipped it into Drew’s backpack and began to wonder what might explain the sudden change in Kleezebee’s plan. Not that it mattered. Nothing was going to change what Lucas had to do next.

  First, protect Drew.

  Second, man up and face the wrath of the Advisory Committee.

  Third, try to convince everyone it was all just an accident, and he never intended to hurt anyone with the experiment. They’d have to understand, right?

  After all, they were all scientists and every scientist knows that mistakes can happen in the lab. Sometimes people even get hurt or killed, especially in the field of advanced theoretical physics. And besides, the experiment had been sanctioned by the committee and by the feds in the first place. How could anyone have expected him to anticipate the results?

  He liked his argument. It all sounded logical and reasonable. For a moment, he thought everything might just be okay.

  Then his intellect took control, reminding him of other, more troubling facts. Facts that weren’t going to help his case: his paper submittal to Dr. Green. Larson shutting down the experiment. Ignoring direct orders from Kleezebee. The vanishing E-121 material from the reactor. Then the endless blood, death, and destruction on campus.

  Lucas gulped, knowing he was totally and completely screwed. The kind of screwed that often leads to courtrooms, endless hate mail, and jail time.

  He turned and looked at the door, half-expecting the police to come crashing through and arrest him for mass murder. He waited, but nothing happened. Then he shook his head and told himself he was overreacting about the earlier than expected meeting. DL probably had other things to do today and simply moved the meeting up a few hours to accommodate his schedule.

  Positive thoughts, he told himself. Everything would work out. Just stand up and tell the truth. Kleezebee would protect him—he always did. It was all just a horrible, freak lab accident.

  Lucas quickly dressed and sat down on the couch to wait for his brother. He powered on the TV and changed the channel to one of the network news stations.

  There was an African-American female correspondent standing in a crowded parking lot filled with emergency vehicles. Superimposed across the bottom of the screen was the phrase NORTH HANOVER, NJ LEVELED. MCGUIRE AFB SPARED.

  The broadcast switched to an overhead feed from a helicopter, which showed a familiar-looking trail of black destruction several blocks long that cut through the center of the city. Lucas’ heart sank as he watched the all-too-familiar scene play out on the screen.

  “Another war zone in the heart of the U.S.A., brought to you by Dr. Lucas Ramsay. A totally fucked Dr. Ramsay—soon to be breaking rocks in some harsh outdoor labor camp sponsored by the State of Arizona,” he mumbled to himself.

  A minute later, he watched a group of firefighters wandering around the scene, then turned his head to call to his brother who was digging around inside the fridge for something to eat. “Looks like another energy dome has appeared.”

  “Where? Tucson?”

  “No. This one is in New Jersey.”

  “Jersey? That’s like two thousand miles away.”

  “I know. Not good. It’s spreading.”

  Drew came cruising over to the couch. His right wheel slammed into the side next to Lucas. “Was anyone hurt?”

  “Looks like it. The dome took out a small town,” Lucas answered, wondering how much more guilt he’d have to endure. He wasn’t sure his conscience could take much more.

  “Any more black residue?”

  “Oh yeah, it’s there.”

  “I wonder why it moved to New Jersey?”

  “No clue. But it looks like I was right. No place is safe.”

  “What about Mom up in Phoenix?”

  “We’ll have to deal with her later. The chance of something happening to her versus the rest of the planet is virtually nil.”

  “But still?”

  “Look, the best way we can help her is to help everyone. And that means we focus on figuring out how to stop this before it happens again. Trust me, nobody on this planet wants to solve this more than me.”

  “We’ll need to convince the professor that we can. Otherwise, I don’t think he’ll let us anywhere near the lab. I’m sure he’s lost faith in us.”

  “I know. But he has to. For everyone’s sake. All we need is a second chance.”

  “Like Dad needed.”

  “Exactly. I figure the universe owes our family one. You ready to go?”

  Drew nodded, right before Trevor knocked on the door. The three of them went down to the first floor to wait for Kleezebee’s driver. They were just outside the main entrance, next to the manager’s office, when a four-door sedan picked them up for their short commute to the science lab.

  They traveled south toward the cordoned-off university and used the driver’s credentials to pass through the north checkpoint. Military troops had set up roadblocks and checkpoints to limit access to campus while forensic investigations continued. The driver pulled up to the front of the science lab to drop them off.

  Inside, the three of them met up with Bruno, who was guarding the security entrance as usual, standing next to two of his beefier staff members.

  “Dr. Lucas, I’m to escort you to NASA’s security station. There are several people waiting for you. DL said he’ll meet you there.”

  “NASA?” Drew asked.

  “Ah, that ain’t good,” Lucas said, feeling the knot in his stomach tighten. He’d never been within fifty yards of NASA’s section of the building. He’d often wondered what stealthy projects were underway, but never imagined he’d actually have the opportunity to walk the halls of the top-secret wing.

  Trevor put one of his enormous hands on Lucas’ shoulder, gripping it gently as a friend would do.

  Despite his uneasiness, Lucas forced himself to remain calm. He cleared his mind and took a few deep breaths. He needed to be one hundred percent on point, or no one would listen to him. The meeting’s new location meant the situation had escalated. NASA would never have granted them access unless the circumstances left them with no other choice.

  Bruno led Trevor and the Ramsay brothers past their own lab and continued on to NASA’s checkpoint, where he stopped to shake each of their hands. “Good luck today, boys. I need to return to my station before my guys run amok. Hopefully, DL will allow me to send them home soon.”

  After Bruno left, a two-man crew of armed MPs frisked Lucas, and then they searched Trevor and Drew, before instructing the trio of scientists to go through another gauntlet of scanning equipment.

  Lucas walked through first, holding his breath. He hated these things, always feeling like his organs were being irradiated. No alarms sounded and he was cleared for entry. A guard handed him a dark blue NASA visitor’s badge, which he clipped to his shirt pocket.

  Trevor picked up Drew and carried him through the two screening devices. Once again, the securit
y devices remained silent. Trevor put Drew back in his chair and the guards handed them visitor’s badges to wear as well.

  They were escorted down two connecting hallways before arriving in front of a metal-grated freight elevator. Lucas knew there was only one reason for the single-story building to have an elevator. They were about to travel underground. He boarded the lift and stood with the small of his back pressing against the rear handrail. Lucas could smell a lingering cigar odor. Actually, it was a nasty cigar stench. That meant only one thing: Kleezebee must have ridden the elevator recently.

  One of the guards pressed the control panel’s bottom-most button, illuminating the number 20. As the lift descended, Lucas thought about NASA’s lengthy ten-year construction period. There was plenty of gossip floating around campus, but nobody seemed to know the reason it took so long.

  Now he knew: building a secret twenty-story subterranean bunker directly under campus was an impressive feat. It also corroborated the rumor that secret underground tests were being run, which had shaken their lab like a bartender finishing a James Bond martini. He wondered if Kleezebee had known what was happening right under their feet, possibly damaging the science lab’s foundation and putting all their lives in jeopardy.

  Lucas felt a body-wide flush when they stepped off the elevator on the 20th floor and were greeted by Mary Stinger, Kleezebee’s executive assistant. The same young woman who held the starring role in many of Lucas’ late night sexual fantasies.

  She smiled. “Hello, Dr. Ramsay. I’m to escort all three of you to the conference room, which is at the far end of this floor. Please follow me.” She held out her hands in the MPs’ direction. “I’ve got it from here, boys. You may return to the surface.”

  Lucas couldn’t keep his eyes off Mary’s body. He’d been preconditioned to appreciate a beautiful woman’s appearance, just like every other male of the species. Even in a tense, dire situation like this, it was difficult to stop his eyes from wandering. Then again, maybe a temporary diversion was just what he needed right about now, so he decided to set them free.

  Mary’s silky orange blouse was unbuttoned deep below her neckline to expose a sizable portion of her upper breasts. He snuck several peeks, trying not to appear obvious, but it was difficult not to stare. Her cleavage wasn’t only magnificent, it acted like a magnet for his eyes.