Linkage (The Narrows of Time Series Book 1)

by Jay J. Falconer

  Given the attendees, Lucas assumed Kleezebee chose the meeting’s new location to take advantage of NASA’s superior communication network and security systems. Microphones and video cameras circled the meeting area, allowing for real-time transmission to all interested parties. A lengthy electronic whiteboard hung on the opposite wall from the teleconference screens. The university used the same technology, which was capable of digitally transcribing anything written on it, and then transmitting the contents to remote locations.

  With everyone focused on him, Lucas felt a little self-conscious. He dropped his eyes and let his hand brush across the tabletop. Its surface was silky smooth and polished, the polar opposite of how his insides felt at the moment. Someone had taken great care to buff and polish its shine until every blemish had been removed, something he wished he could do with his nasty cheek scars. The mahogany wood was a deep reddish color, and its individual planks were edge-glued, using a book-match technique, much like a butterfly’s wings. It was a stunning piece of workmanship.

  There were stacks of reports spread out in front of him, along with yellow markers, pencils, legal pads, and several unlabeled bottles of water. He could also smell a hint of ammonia in the air.

  He finally found the courage to look up, locking eyes with his longtime mentor and boss, Dr. Kleezebee. He’d hoped to find a generous supply of support looking back at him, but the professor’s face instantly went cold after he whispered a single word: “Sorry.”

  At that moment, Lucas felt like a defenseless rabbit who’d just hopped into a clearing, only to find the meadow was surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves. The room’s temperature suddenly seemed a bit high, and the walls were much too close for comfort. Yep, it was an execution all right, and his ass was firmly planted in the electric chair.

  President Hubbs spoke first. “Dr. Ramsay, I wish to thank you and your brother for joining us here today.”

  Lucas’ throat ran dry as he tried to utter a response, but the words stuck in his throat. It felt like someone had just dumped a mattress full of cotton into his mouth. He stuttered like an idiot. “Happy…” he coughed, “…to be . . . here . . . Mr. President.”

  He decided he needed a drink to calm his nerves and unstick his lips. When he went to open one of the water bottles in front of him, the plastic cap squirted out of his fingers and shot across the table. He tried to lunge for it as it bounced away from him, but missed. It rolled across the floor and into the far corner.

  “Fuck,” he snapped before he could stop the vulgarity from leaving from his lips. He was mortified, realizing all he could do now was sit back in his chair and act like nothing had happened.

  Play it cool, he told himself. Maybe they didn’t all notice his fumble, and the F-bomb.

  He drank a healthy swig of water, praying his throat would remember how to swallow properly. Otherwise, he’d look like a drooling idiot. It did, thank God, sliding down properly to quench his raging thirst.

  The President cleared his throat. “I had planned to remain for the duration of this meeting, but unfortunately, I have a press conference to give. Dr. Rosenbaum will handle it from here,” the President said before standing up and removing his lavalier microphone. All three teleconference screens went dark a second later.

  What a stroke of luck—the President wasn’t sticking around. The last thing Lucas wanted was to face the President of the United States and admit his mistakes. It was bad enough having to come clean and face the wrath of Kleezebee and the rest of the people seated at the table, but President Hubbs was a former prosecuting attorney with a near-perfect record of convictions. Lucas would’ve wilted under direct cross-examination by the Commander-in-Chief, only making matters worse.

  Lucas kept his head down to avoid eye contact until he pulled himself together. He opened his red-and-blue notebook and scanned through the first few pages, pretending to be interested in the equations. He felt like an unprepared student, hiding in the back of the classroom, praying the teacher wouldn’t notice him. Maybe if he kept quiet, everyone would forget he was in the room, too.

  Without thinking, he picked up a #2 pencil from the stack on the table and began to chew on the middle of it. The soft wood surface gave way as his teeth clenched around its perimeter. Without warning, his eyes wandered up on their own, looking directly into the eyes of Dr. Rosenbaum.

  She didn’t miss a beat. “Dr. Ramsay, we’re here to investigate the recent tragedies on campus. Dr. Kleezebee has assured me we can expect your full cooperation as we address the cause of these horrific events. Rest assured, we will get to the bottom of this,” she said in a gravelly voice that sounded older than she looked.

  The woman reached for a remote control sitting in front of her, then spoke. “There have been some new developments overnight, of which you may not be aware. Please direct your attention to the screen in front of you.”

  She clicked a button on the remote while pointing it at the table’s video carousel. The screens flickered for a moment, just before the video playback started with the word MUTE in the upper left corner of the screen. “This first report is from France and was filmed by one of their local news agencies.”

  The broadcast showed aerial footage of a devastating gouge that cut through a crowded neighborhood in Paris. Portions of a school and a playground were missing, exposing a bank of lockers and the floor of a gymnasium.

  “As you can see, another energy field has appeared and killed thousands of French citizens as they slept. Pay close attention to the last segment of the report.”

  Lucas had seen the carnage from New Jersey, but the dome terrorizing France was news to him. Things were spiraling out of control, piling more and more guilt onto his already overloaded shoulders.

  The camera zoomed in on a mound of shredded bodies left behind by the dome. The organic material was seeping out and percolating in the afternoon sun. The pile appeared to be at least twice the size of the one Lucas had seen on the grassy mall.

  “This next report is from Sydney, Australia. It was captured by an American tourist with a video camera.”

  The recording showed an energy field unleashing its might along the city’s waterfront. The dome wasted little time consuming the city’s marina before leveling two restaurants and a parking lot crowded with vehicles. Not much remained after it passed, leaving the shoreline a disaster area.

  The final report was from South Africa, where a city security camera captured an energy dome flattening downtown Cape Town. It obliterated at least a dozen high-rise buildings and consumed a city park, trees and all.

  Rosenbaum clicked a button on the remote control. The video playback paused as she continued. “In addition to last night’s reports, we’ve just received word that subsequent energy fields have reappeared in each of these areas, killing thousands more. Beijing, Moscow, and Baghdad have also reported their first incidents, and the list of cities continues to grow. Each time a dome appears, its size increases. So does the duration of the event, as if they are building toward something even more catastrophic.”

  “Or searching for something,” Kleezebee added. “I question whether we’ve gathered sufficient evidence to make any formal conclusions about anything as yet.”

  “Possibly,” Rosenbaum said in an annoyed tone, slipping on her reading glasses and opening a thick manila folder sitting in front of her. She took a few moments to scan through the paperwork before addressing Lucas. “Dr. Kleezebee has given us a detailed briefing as to the nature of your E-121 project. He also informed us that you believe these energy fields are linked to the second test of your experiment. Is this still your assessment, Dr. Ramsay?”

  “Yes, ma’am. While there’s no direct proof, we believe E-121’s disappearance and the recurring energy fields are connected in some fashion. The timing of the events, the similar energy levels, the black powder residue—it can’t all just be coincidence. It’s a good bet they’re related . . . somehow.”

  “When you say related, do you
mean E-121’s disappearance caused the energy fields?”

  Lucas chose his words carefully, wanting to sound like a seasoned investigator and not the newly hired physicist he actually was. “Yes, given the facts, one could draw that conclusion. But it may not be the only ex—”

  “Was your second test sanctioned by the university, Dr. Ramsay?” she asked in a louder tone, not letting him finish his answer.

  “No, it wasn’t. But—”

  “Then would it be correct to assume that if you hadn’t violated protocols and run the experiment a second time, we wouldn’t be sitting here today?”

  “Yes. However—”

  “Then by extension, would it be accurate to conclude that your unauthorized actions led to the deaths of thousands of innocent civilians and hundreds of billions of dollars’ worth of damage?”

  Lucas didn’t answer right away. He needed time to think. It was clear she wasn’t there for answers and certainly had no intention of letting him speak and explain the facts. Her agenda was obvious—she needed to pin the deaths on somebody and his name was the only one on the suspect board. He was screwed no matter what he said.

  Even so, she was right. This was his fault. He was the one who disobeyed Kleezebee’s orders. There was no denying it. He decided not to fight it. It wouldn’t make any difference, anyway. He needed to take it like a man, and deflect responsibility away from his little brother. He looked at Drew, who was staring down at the edge of the table in silence.

  Lucas took a deep breath and let it out slowly before answering in a nervous voice. “Yes, ma’am. It’s my fault. I’m the reason all those people died. My brother had nothing to do with any of this. I take full responsibility for ignoring Dr. Kleezebee’s orders and running the experiment without authorization, and everything else that’s happened as a result.”

  Rosenbaum nodded as if pleased with herself. She leaned forward in her chair like a courtroom judge who was about to render sentencing. “Do you have anything else to add, Dr. Ramsay?”

  He was surprised she opened the floor for a response. “As a matter of fact, yes, I do. There was an unexplained energy spike in the reactor just before the material vanished. It may have overloaded the core, which might explain why E-121 disappeared.”

  “What was the origin of the spike?”

  “Unknown, ma’am.”

  “Then how can you be certain there actually was an energy spike?”

  “Because our instruments recorded it.”

  “Isn’t it possible your equipment may have malfunctioned and reported a spike when in fact there was none?”

  “No, Dr. Rosenbaum, they were functioning properly.”

  “Who, may I ask, built these instruments?”

  “We did. They’re our own design and we spent months perfecting them.”

  Rosenbaum pulled out a sheet of paper from her folder. “Your logbook reported the spike to be at least six times 1031 terajoules. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, I believe so.”

  “Were your instruments designed to handle that amount of energy?”

  Lucas shook his head, wondering how the old woman knew everything. “No, they weren’t. But trust me, my brother ran the calculations and he’s never wrong.”

  “Even if there was a massive energy spike, as you claim, does that in any way mitigate your responsibility for running the experiment without permission?”

  He wished he could answer yes to her question, but couldn’t. “No, ma’am, it doesn’t.”

  The woman was relentless. Lucas suddenly felt like the chair he was sitting in was six sizes too large for him. His blood pressure skyrocketed as his chest began to squeeze down on his heart. He suddenly felt the need to make a run for it. He checked to see if the door behind him was open. It wasn’t.

  Shit. Trapped.

  Rosenbaum closed the folder with added force, then made eye contact with each of her colleagues seated at the table. “Dr. Ramsay, this council has spent the early morning hours reviewing the available video and scientific evidence with President Hubbs and his advisors. It is our conclusion, as well as the President’s, that your experiment indeed triggered the energy vortexes, which are, at this very moment, spreading across our planet. You were correct earlier when you stated that the facts in evidence are not merely coincidence. We agree. They’re much too specific to be random, unrelated events. Your unauthorized E-121 test caused these tragedies.”

  Lucas had intended to present the council with their notebook of theories, but he changed his mind when it became clear Rosenbaum’s sole intent was to crucify him. He decided it would be best if he waited until after the meeting, when he could discuss the notebook privately with Kleezebee. Maybe DL could reason with her.

  Rosenbaum continued in a stern voice, “Based on our projections, if this phenomenon continues at its current pace, the entire surface of our planet will be leveled in a little over two weeks. Thanks to you two, the human race is on the verge of extinction.”

  She took a sip from a half-empty water bottle. “The press is all over this with their doomsday predictions. We’re hearing reports of riots, looting, religious hysteria, and mass suicide in every major city around the world. As this phenomenon spreads, power grids are beginning to fail, along with key transportation and communication systems. We have foreign heads of state promising retaliation for what they believe is a planned attack. Our society is on the brink of social and spiritual anarchy. . . .”

  She was right, Lucas thought, but damn. She didn’t need to rub his nose in it and do so in front of everyone. He’d already admitted he was dead wrong and had taken full responsibility. What more did she want? He couldn’t possibly feel any worse than he already did about all the death and destruction. As it was, he had no idea how he was going to live with the consequences of his actions.

  Deep down, he knew he wasn’t a murderous criminal, even though she was painting him out to be one. He was a good person who always tried to do the right thing, even when his temper got in the way. People make mistakes, right? Everyone does. This was all just a horrible accident that started with one really bad decision. Now his entire life had been turned upside down and gone completely haywire. How the hell did all this happen?

  He looked at her, wanting to say something, but he couldn’t find the words to defend himself. All he could do was sit there like a wounded duck, wondering if he should even try. It was pointless. She wasn’t going to listen. Neither would anyone else at the table, except Drew. And possibly Kleezebee. But they weren’t in charge. She was.

  Hell, if he thought if it would make a difference, he’d gladly stand up right then and there and offer to give up his life in exchange for all the others who’d died.

  Then another idea popped into his head—a foolish one. Maybe he could invent some type of time travel machine and voyage back into history to undo the mistakes he’d made. Oh, how he wished that were possible, but the laws of physics weren’t going to allow it. No, he was totally screwed. There was no way out of this mess.

  Just then, there was a knock at the door.

  Lucas swung his head around to see who it was.

  The door behind him opened partway and Mary Stinger stuck her head inside. “Excuse me, Dr. Rosenbaum. I have an urgent report to deliver to Dr. Kleezebee.”

  “Come in,” Rosenbaum said, “but make it quick.”

  Mary walked around the far side of the table and handed the report to Dr. Kleezebee. Her hair swayed from side to side as she walked quickly back to the door. She smiled and winked at Lucas.

  Now she notices me? Seriously? Now?

  Kleezebee spent half a minute reading the contents of the folder before addressing Rosenbaum. “Dr. Rosenbaum, this is a preliminary DNA report for the human remains left behind on campus. Thus far, we have positively identified a hundred and five victims. There appear to be twenty-two additional DNA samples, which we have yet to identify.”

  Kleezebee handed the folder to her. “I caution you, there
are some rather graphic photos attached to the back of the report.”

  Rosenbaum opened the folder and spent a few minutes reviewing it. She seemed to be unaffected by its contents. She turned the folder sideways to look at the photos attached in the back.

  “Dr. Rosenbaum,” the attorney Larson said, leaning forward in his chair. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to see that report next.”

  She closed the folder and slid it across the table to Larson. It landed in his outstretched hand with a sliding swoosh.

  She turned her focus to Kleezebee. “May I have a word with you in private?”

  Kleezebee stood up and the two of them moved to the far corner of the room. Lucas couldn’t hear what they were saying to each other.

  Meanwhile, Larson was slowly scanning the report with his right index finger. When Larson’s hand stopped moving, he pulled out his cell phone and tried to use it.

  Lucas knew there was no way Larson was going to get cell signal all the way down in the sub-basements, but he didn’t say anything. Let him try. Dumbass.

  Larson closed his cell and reached for the house phone sitting in front of Dr. Suki. He dragged it closer to him by the phone cord before picking up the receiver. “Do I need to dial nine first to get an outside line?” he asked Suki.

  Suki nodded.

  Larson dialed the phone, and a few moments later, he began a conversation. “I need to speak to Rafael; is he available? . . . This is his brother-in-law, Randy . . . I need to get a message to him . . . Tell him I’m sorry to report that he was correct all along. He’ll know what it means.”

  Larson hung up the phone and walked past Lucas on his way out of the conference room.

  Drew leaned over and whispered into Lucas’ ear, “See if you can get a copy of the DNA report. I need to know if Abby’s name is on the list.”

  Before Lucas could respond, he heard a faint rumble above him, and it was getting progressively louder. Moments later, his fingertips felt an uneven vibration in the conference room table. At first, Lucas thought NASA was firing up one of their underground tests, but he soon realized he was wrong when the intensity of the quake increased dramatically. The tremor was far beyond anything he’d ever experienced before.