Escape to Canamith

by Richard Friedman

  “You mean wrong like this?” Aldo said, pointing to his notebook filled with hundreds of events from throughout the world detailing bizarre events of destruction aimed squarely at man and his crops, his ships, and his stranglehold on the planet.

  “Yes, Aldo, wrong like that. There’s a logical explanation for that stuff and I’m not heading back to a cave in fear.”

  “I need to throw up again.”

  Aldo excused himself and ran to the bathroom.

  He stayed in there until the captain insisted that everyone get in their seats for landing.

  The warning lights located by the passengers’ heads flicked on as the smell of smoke wafted through the cabin. The fasten seat belt automatically turned on while two attendants sped through a series of checklists.

  Aldo scurried back to his seat as the aroma hit the back of the plane.

  “I smell smoke. Shit!” he yelled.

  Lila grabbed his arm and pulled him close to her.

  “Keep calm. It’s probably nothing.”

  As Lila spoke, emergency lights flickered on the floor of the airplane. The lights alternated in a manner that passengers looking down would see arrows pointing to the closest emergency exit.

  The airplane took a sharp turn to the left and sent Lila leaning into Aldo. Her seatbelt kept her from falling into his lap. Aldo gripped the armrest so tight that his fingers were as white as his face. The airplane then overcompensated and swung back the other way as the pilot fought for control of the plane. Overhead compartments flew open and carry-on luggage hurtled at innocent targets. A laptop case with a medium-sized computer struck one passenger in the head. The plane began to steady and Lila could see the runway in the distance, off the right side of the plane.

  The captain came on the intercom and informed his terrified passengers of the plane’s status. “This is captain again. We’re within a mile of the runway. There’ll be one more big turn coming up. We’ll be coming in fast. I’ll have you folks down on the ground in a minute. I’d like you to assume emergency landing positions.”

  The smoke inside the cabin dissipated, but Lila peered out the window and saw smoke coming from engine three, closest engine to the cabin. There were two engines on the left side of the plane, and two on the right. She couldn’t see what was happening with engine four because Aldo was in the way.

  The plane dipped and a retching sound came from Lila’s right. Aldo had vomited. The runway was ahead of them and the captain came back on the intercom. “Prepare for landing.” There were no reassurances.

  Lila recalled the Emergency Instruction Card located in the front seat pocket that she had seen all her life. She never imagined needing to recall the instructions… something about tucking her head between her legs as far as she could reach. She thought that was foolish. If she was going to die, then she wanted to see how it was going to happen. Instinctively she tucked her head away again, preparing for the impact of the plane smashing into the ground.

  The captain had to using all his aeronautical skills to keep the airplane aloft. A grinding sound now reverberated throughout the cabin.

  “What’s that?” asked Aldo.

  “It’s got to be the landing gear,” said Lila.

  In a matter of a few seconds, the airplane’s wheels smacked the ground, forcing the plane upward for a moment, and then back down to the ground. The airplane sailed past the gates at a high speed. They stopped 200 yards shy of the end of the runway. The emergency slide automatically opened and the passengers slipped from the plane. A majority of the passengers were unscathed, but a few of the crewmembers had noticeable wounds and received prompt attention from the emergency medical team.

  Massey gathered his team at the base of the slide. He counted heads with his finger and was pleased that everyone was accounted for and, other than slight discoloration of Aldo’s clothes, the parties appeared intact.

  “Welcome to the Capital,” said Massey.

  CHAPTER 16

  The bustling airport was full of businessmen heading from the Capital to destinations throughout the world. Planes took off and landed every minute, filling the air with the constant rumble of jet engines ripping through the sky.

  Taft and his assistants were there to meet the weary travelers.

  “Welcome, Dr. Massey, Dr. Jenkins, and you must be Mr. Gorrell. You folks certainly know how to make an impression. I trust your landing on the way back home will be less dramatic. I’m General Taft, and say… Gorrell, you look a little peaked.”

  The staff studied the general with amazement. Hadn’t he seen their near-death disaster minutes earlier?

  “Excuse me, Gen. Taft. We practically crash-landed here. Do you think we can have a few minutes to gather our thoughts?” asked Dr. Goldman. She wasn’t over the stress of the landing.

  “You’re Dr. Goldman?”

  She nodded.

  “Doctor Goldman, let me tell you a thing or two about rough landings. Four years ago my pilot was shot dead right in front of me and the co-pilot picked a dreadful moment to have an anxiety attack. I had to land the plane myself. Would you care to hear the story how I crossed a river with enemy fire coming at me from both banks?”

  “What’s your point, general?” asked Goldman.

  “Doctor, in moments of complete chaos, you must continue to move forward, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do right now. Gorrell, how are you feeling, lad?” asked the general.

  “I’m fine, sir. Perhaps a bit of that famous airline tummy, you know how it affects certain people. It was a bumpy ride, especially the landing.” Aldo shot Lila a look, but she wasn’t in the mood for laughter.

  “Not me, Gorrell… stomach made of iron.” The general patted his mid-section. “Too bad it’s like my personality. If you don’t believe me, ask my wife.”

  Aldo didn’t speak.

  “That was a joke, son,” said the general.

  Aldo feigned a smile. He was tired of being the brunt of everyone’s jokes. Aldo noticed that Dr. Massey appeared perturbed. It was the face of embarrassment for his young assistant.

  “I’m all right, sir. I’ll grab the luggage,” insisted Aldo.

  “No need. It’s in the limo. Why don’t we get out of here and get to the hotel.

  The group walked back to the black stretch limousine. General Taft led the way, keeping himself a few paces ahead of the rest.

  The group of Massey, Lila, Goldman, Morales, Aldo, the general and his assistant entered the armored vehicle and sped away from the airport. An Army convoy escorted the group to the exit. Aldo looked out of the rear window and flipped the bird to the entire airport property.

  Forty-five minutes later they were ushered into the capital’s priciest hotel. The government had commandeered the building for the entire group of scientists from every country participating in the crisis. Massey, Jenkins and Gorrell were given suite 212. It featured three separate bedrooms, a small kitchen area, a living room area, and two bathrooms. The trio went to grab a quick lunch prior to the mandatory meeting scheduled for thirteen hundred hours. Aldo had regained his appetite and was ready to eat. Goldman had room 213, and Morales 215.

  Taft greeted all the guests at an informal opening session that was designed to get the group comfortable with their new surroundings. Taft grabbed the microphone. “My name is General Taft and I’ll be your host while you’re guests in this facility. I’m not going to get into any details this afternoon. I want you folks to get a full night’s rest. Tomorrow, we’ll start early. We’re in for a long day. I’m leaving documents for your review. These packets contain your security badge, important telephone numbers, etc…don’t lose this stuff.”

  All parties present in the room acknowledged him in various forms of confirmations.

  Massey, Lila, and Aldo met in their suite a few minutes after dinner. Lila tried to reach J.J. by telephone. The entire telephone network was out of order and she couldn’t reach him.

  Massey turned the key to the heavy wooden d
oor and locked it. Then he clicked the dead bolt. Nobody was coming in without permission from Dr. Massey, who took this opportunity to fill in his roommates with new information.

  “I have additional news about the situation back in Sanderell. I was told by an undisclosed source that the deceased man, Mr. Rothschild, was in charge of the Western Border Nuclear Power Plant Storage Facility where the nuclear waste was presumed to be held. My source also told me that Rothschild was way over budget and about to lose his job. So what does the idiot do? He farms out a tanker full of toxic nuclear waste to small-time fishermen, who were more than willing to take the barrels of waste into the middle of the ocean for a handsome sum of money. You may recall the story about the ship called The Falcon that sank during the storm a few weeks ago. All hands were lost, as were the hundreds of barrels of toxic waste and inexplicably, those were the barrels found in Sanderell. The barrels were on the damned Falcon.

  “You mean ‘damned’ liked ‘cursed’, or just ‘damn’?” asked Aldo.

  “Does it matter?” Massey snapped.

  “I guess not, I was wondering, that’s all,” said Aldo, his voice retreating.

  “How long was Rothschild illegally dumping waste?” asked Lila.

  “Nobody knows for sure. There’s an ongoing investigation and it appears that he was dumping waste for years. This explains why he was given a multi-million dollar bonus for coming in under-budget three years in a row, at least until this year. It also helps explain large areas of the ocean being declared ‘dead zones’. The consequences are incalculable. Remember that we’ll be dealing with a lot of emotional people tomorrow. As an example, at least now we know why the barrels of toxic waste were close to shore. They weren’t pushed 1,000 miles to shore by angry whales. These barrels were a few miles out to sea when the ship sank. Underwater currents helped push the barrels a little closer to shore.”

  Lila interjected, “I tell my students that there is a logical scientific explanation for things and now perhaps people will stop thinking the whales brought these barrels from the depths of the sea to the beachfront.”

  “Then why are we here? They could have issued a two-sentence press release and been done with it. We’ve seen the reports. There’s more than toxic waste to deal with,” said Aldo.

  “Simple: the problem out there today and what could potentially develop in the future can’t be addressed in a press release. We need real solutions, not a cosmetic face lift with the same old ‘We’re going to have to do something about it sometime’ speech that the political parties stream out there at election time. The world is facing disastrous consequences. There’s a lot more at stake than a few hundred dead whales.”

  Lila could sense another headache starting to develop. This one was above her left eye. She used the ball of her thumb to rub the affected area in a slow, circular rubbing motion. The steady pressure eased the pain a bit.

  “You all right, Professor Jenkins?” asked Aldo.

  “I’ll be fine. It’s a headache, not a toxic waste dump. I want to go back to this Rothschild character for a moment. Let’s examine his background.”

  Aldo flipped through his color-coded charts of people, places and disasters. “I’ve got that. Hold on a sec… right here. Here it is. See; all the people are color-coded blue.”

  “Aldo, what can you tell us, not show us?” interrupted Massey.

  “He was in way over his head. He used to work in the telecommunications field and then somehow landed this huge job at Western Border. He has—er—had assets in the millions. He earned a substantial amount of money from his job at DCE Communications. They did a lot of work with the government. Lots of no-bid contracts that brought them under surveillance from citizen groups and government watchdogs, etc…but nothing ever came of it, and eventually he left DCE and went to work at Western Border. He was married briefly, then divorced, never had kids or heirs to spend the money. Too bad for them; I could use it.”

  “That’s enough commentary, Mr. Gorrell,” fired Massey.

  “The investigation is ongoing. My guess is this guy’s been a dirty bastard for years and he killed himself to avoid public embarrassment. Who wants to be known as the cause for the single largest nuclear waste dump in the history of the planet? That’s a lot of shit to have on one’s head, huh?”

  Dr. Massey concurred with Gorrell. “As you eloquently described, that’s a ‘lot of shit’.”

  Lila chipped back in with her two cents. “The guy was dirty, but that’s not even half the story. If the world is in the middle of chaos, it’s not all because of this guy Rothschild. Let’s keep the goal of why we’re here in mind, shall we? What can we do to help turn the tide and get things back to normal? Rothschild may help explain what happened at Sanderell Beach…What about everything else?”

  “Agreed,” said Massey. “Let’s review our notes from General Taft. That may give us fresh ideas to bring to the meeting tomorrow. Why don’t we review our documents, get some sleep, and we’ll meet in the morning, say, fifteen minutes before the meeting?”

  Massey, Jenkins, and Gorrell went to their respective rooms and spent the next several hours looking over a myriad of calamities, deaths, and scenes of destruction throughout the world that bordered in the bizarre, the weird and unexplainable.

  CANAMITH COMMUNICATION DEPARTMENT

  Update #233

  Chemical Spill Kills 3,400

  Poisonous gas seeped out of the Dragarian Chemical Company last night. The northeast wind blew the chemicals over the shantytown of Reedville. Residents had little chance against the odorless Methyl Isocynate. The dead are being stored at a local refrigeration plant until proper burials can be performed.

  There has been no formal explanation for the leak, but Dragarian officials have confirmed that tiny holes were found in many of the containers along the eastern side of storage building number seven.

  CHAPTER 17

  The grand ballroom of the Capital Hotel encompassed the entire second floor. Hastily converted into a working area for the conference, the hotel staff had put up partitions allowing representatives of each country to work together without distracting the group next to them. Massey and his group were discussing things quietly in their cubicle when a voice echoed from the loudspeaker.

  “Attention. Attention. Will the representatives proceed to the General Assembly meeting room in five minutes. Five minutes, please.”

  General Taft sat at the head table. Senator Leary and Dr. Massey sat on either side. Lila and Aldo sat at an adjacent table. The rest of the head table had other notable scientists. Lila recognized the top two viral experts in their field: Dr. Jonathan Carmen and his wife Dr. Gracey Lubitz. They sat at a nearby table with the world-renowned geneticist Brian McDivitt, and Roger Drake, who garnered fame and fortune as the world’s most acclaimed telecommunication expert. Dr. Goldman and Dr. Morales sat with Massey, Lila, and Aldo. The room was filled with the best that academia had to offer. Each guest in the hotel was given an update on the world’s disorder that morning.

  Massey gathered his staff for a quick talk before the meeting started.

  “General Taft didn’t make a great first impression, but he rose to his lofty status by leading the Armed Forces to victories in the war against terrorist factions seven years ago. His clever use of force, computer technology and sheer guile were key elements that put a big dent in the terrorist network. The general told me that satellite imaging from our landing, in conjunction with the recordings from the black box in the airplane, confirmed that several large birds flew into engine number three and caused our mishap.”

  Massey continued, covering the rest of the head table. “I met Mr. Drake once or twice. He was instrumental in developing the computer systems that linked computer technology and the international telecommunications network. The advances in communications under Drake’s leadership at the government’s Technology Department pushed the science of telecommunications ahead years faster than any of his peers had thought possible. E
stablishing lines of communication will be important. We’ve got to set up the network configurations too. Drake is the man you want on your side. He has contacts throughout the modern world and has access to a vast set of resources that can cut through red tape. He has carte blanche to use whatever connections he has to assist us.”

  General Taft grabbed the microphone. “I want thank you for coming on such short notice. I’m confident the accommodations are to your liking. Please keep your credential badges with you at all times. It will get you anywhere in the hotel. The restaurant is staying open day and night. Computers are available in Conference Rooms A, B, and D. We’ve linked up the hotel database with the International Computer Communications Station. This will allow you to log into your computers in your country. I want to thank Mr. Drake and his staff at DCE for getting the systems up and ready. The entire room was synched up within minutes of my request. I think you’ll be amazed at the resources you have at your fingertips. If there is anything that you need, don’t hesitate to ask. Everybody on my staff is wearing these bright green lapel pins. It’ll make it easier to find one of my people. You’ll be able to find technical support here at any hour of the day. Let’s move on.

  “Each of you has a blue notebook. In it you will find a complete listing of the attendees at the conference. It’s an incredible list of talented people. You’ll find a brief synopsis of the crisis, as it stands today, on page one. Events are happening rather quickly these days, and if anything changes, and I’m sure it will, you’ll be notified as soon as possible. It will take the hard work and dedication of all of us to solve this problem and I suggest we begin right away.”

  A modicum of applause rang throughout the room. A flurry of activity was about to begin.

  Taft motioned to quiet the crowd by raising his long arms high in the air.

  “You can see the ‘status monitor’ on the wall. Mr. Drake, is it ready? It is? Thank you. The monitor will keep you abreast of any incoming video feeds we receive from international and national news sources. They’ll be transferred immediately to the data collection devices in your bag. That’s a clever device, Roger. Thank you again for supplying those on short notice.”