“Under whose authority?”
“The President of the United States,” he said. “It’s a matter of national security.”
“I want to speak to Linda Creasey.”
“In due time, but for now you’ll have to come with us.”
“This is unconstitutional!” she said louder than necessary as they walked her past the ladies’ room door. “Martin’s done nothing wrong.”
Barely breathing, Marty waited until he was sure they were gone, then quickly fled the building. He was threading his way through the lot to his rental car when he noticed two men in suits coming toward him. He bolted for the car and jumped in, but by the time he got it running, both agents were there.
“Get out of the car, Chittenden!” Paulis ordered, moving around to the driver side door, his partner remaining behind the car to prevent Marty from backing out.
Marty ignored the man’s increasingly strident orders and slowly eased the car back out of the space. He knew he was taking a huge risk, but what the hell, the world was doomed anyhow.
Paulis produced a collapsible baton, used it to smash out Marty’s window and lunged for the ignition key. Marty panicked and jabbed his finger into the man’s eye. The agent swore and pulled back as Marty stomped on the accelerator. The car jumped back, and a pair of electrodes, fired from the second agent’s Taser, bounced off the windshield. Marty hit the brakes, cut the wheel, shifted into drive and sped off.
Several minutes later, as he joined the traffic moving west, he had regained his composure and was mentally running through a list of astronomers he could call to help him, though now he wasn’t entirely sure that was the best course of action. Was there any point in taking what he knew to the public? It would throw the nation into chaos, and in the end, there wasn’t much most people could do to save themselves. By the time he reached the highway, however, he had made a decision. Freedom could be a dangerous thing, but the United States was still a democracy, and Americans reserved the right to control their own destiny to the very end.
As he pondered his next move, he knew he couldn’t go back to his home or to Mesa Station. The airport was equally out of the question. The only thing he could think to do was ditch this car and rent another one along the way, buying himself some much needed time to get out of California. He knew of a retired, very sharp astronomer living in Idaho who would likely find this asteroid of particular interest, but she was up in her years and he had never actually made her acquaintance.
He thought about the agent then, and wondered if he had done any real damage to the man’s eye. He hoped not, but he had broken no laws and was perfectly within his rights to defend himself. Just the same, he hoped he would never cross paths with the guy again.
Three
Forrest swung his green surplus Humvee into the truck stop and drove straight up to the fuel pumps. After he’d stuck the nozzle into the fuel port, he went inside to pick up some chips and beer for the guys back at the silo. They had all been working like mules turning the old military installation into an acceptable living environment. There was a lot of cleaning and painting left to do yet, but if worse came to worst, much of that could be done after they’d sealed themselves inside.
The most critical elements had to be dealt with first. They still needed to fill the old rocket propellant tanks with diesel oil to run the generators, and there was a lot of food yet to be bought and transported to the site. The ventilation intakes still had to be hardened against sabotage, and the lift elevator had jammed the night before. These repairs and supplies were going to be expensive and time-consuming, and Forrest expected to work up to the very last couple of days. All five of the men had taken out second mortgages on their homes and were in the process of maxing out the many credit cards they had picked up lately. They laughed about the huge amount of debt they would all have hanging over their heads if, by some miracle, NASA did manage to stop the asteroid. They knew this was the largest part of why the government had chosen to keep the rock a secret—if everyone took the measures they themselves were taking, the economy would almost certainly implode and total chaos would reign.
Forrest pondered this, along with many other grim realities, as he tugged a case of beer from the bottom shelf of the cooler. When he turned around he was abruptly shaken from these dreary reveries by the sight of a particularly beautiful woman standing in the potato chip aisle. She was slender, with bedroom eyes and long auburn hair full of lazy, natural curls. Wearing a brown halter top, shorts, and sandals, she had a fresh, lithe look about her.
“These are pretty good,” he said, reaching to grab two bags of kettle-cooked potato chips.
She stole a glance at him. “Too much trans fat.”
“You know, that’s what I keep telling those guys,” he said. “Way too much trans fat.” He was looking directly at her now and smiling, the chips the furthest thing from his mind. “I’m Jack.”
A slightly bemused smile spread across her face. “Does this often work for you, Jack?”
He chuckled. “Truthfully, I’m a little out of practice.”
“I can see that,” she said dryly.
“Okay,” he said, feeling silly. “Safe travels.”
“You too,” she said, returning her attention to the task at hand. She heard him muttering to himself as he walked away—My kingdom for some time!—and couldn’t help chuckling.
He stepped up to the counter and allowed the clerk to ring up the chips and beer. “How much do I owe you on pump nine?”
“It shut off at a dollar twelve,” the clerk said. “You pretty much gotta hold the handle the whole time with those pumps. They’re touchy.”
“All right,” Forrest said. “I’ll pay for this stuff and come back after I fill up.”
He was still waiting for the tank to fill when the woman came out with a bag in her hand and walked across the lot toward her car. He watched her for a moment then trotted off after her, unable to help himself.
“Excuse me! Miss?”
She turned as she was about to put her key into the door, looking annoyed. “I’ve got a boyfriend.”
“Never doubted it for a second,” he said, more businesslike now, taking a pen from this pocket and writing his cell number down on the potato chip receipt. “Keep this number for a few months. I know this sounds like another stupid line,” he admitted, “but you may hear something in the news soon, something that frightens you. If you do, I might be able to help.”
She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “I knew there was something odd about you. What am I supposed to hear that’ll frighten me into calling a total stranger?”
“If I told you, you’d never believe me. And that’s the truth. Just let the number float around the bottom of your purse. Throw it away in a few months. It can’t hurt anything.”
“How will I know if I’m hearing the right thing? I don’t scare very easily.”
She wasn’t taking him seriously, but he didn’t seem at all dangerous to her, and he was the most intriguing person she’d run into between Nebraska and South Carolina, where she’d been visiting her sister.
“Let me put it this way,” he said. “If you have even the slightest doubt about it . . . that’s not it.”
She put the slip of paper into her purse. “Thanks . . . I guess.”
“Drive careful,” he said, and headed back to the Humvee.
Finding that the pump had shut off again, he mumbled an obscenity as he grabbed the handle and squeezed the trigger mechanism. He was watching the digits add up when the woman came walking over.
“Elizabeth never really said that, you know . . . ‘Time. Time. My kingdom for some time.’ ”
He smiled at her, feeling butterflies. “Well then she should have.”
“I know I’ve played right into your hands on this, but I need you to tell me what it is . . . this scary thing.”
“Honestly, you won’t believe me.”
After considering the situation for a moment, she took the receipt from her purse and stuck it under the wiper blade of the Humvee. “I’m over it,” she said, and turned to walk away.
“It’s an asteroid,” he blurted.
She turned back around. “A what?”
“A rogue asteroid. It’s two miles wide and it’s on a collision course with North America.”
“You were right,” she said, her eyes wide. “I don’t believe you. Goodbye.”
“In eighty-seven days it’s going to slam into us somewhere between the Mexican border and the Yukon Territory at a hundred and ten thousand miles an hour.”
She paused and stood looking at him.
“I’m told the resultant explosion and ensuing firestorm will kill every living creature aboveground out to a radius of eight or nine hundred miles. After that the sun’s going to be obscured from the sky for an awfully long time.” He plucked the number from under the blade and offered it back to her.
“Not that I believe you,” she said, sticking the paper into her pocket, “but if this were true, why would I bother to call you about it?”
“My friends and I are preparing a shelter, a good one, and were hoping to save fifty people or so, mostly women and children.”
“And why would I be so lucky?”
He shrugged. “Look in the mirror.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Hey, I know how that sounds, but you asked.”
She studied him for the slightest hint of guile. “Well, you’re either a damn good liar, or you’re crazy enough to believe what you’re saying.”
“I’m going in to pay for my fuel,” he said. “If you’re still here when I get back, maybe we can talk some more.”
When Forrest returned, the woman was back across the lot leaning against her car. He drove over and parked beside her. Getting out, he sat on the hood, popping the top from a beer bottle with a pocketknife.
The woman climbed up onto the hood and sat looking at him. “I’m normally a level-headed, common-sensical person. So why the hell should I believe you?”
“Beer?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Maybe it’s because a good friend of mine at the Pentagon broke about twenty different federal laws telling me what I just told you. Or maybe I just have an honest face,” he added with a grin.
She couldn’t help returning it, trusting him half for real and half for the fun of it. “Aren’t they doing anything about it?”
“You’ve heard about those two high-tech satellites NASA’s planning to launch into space?”
“I don’t watch much television, but I’ll take your word for it.”
“The rockets are actually ICBMs, modified to look the part, but they’re carrying nuclear payloads, not satellites.”
“So they’re going to blow it up?”
“The first warhead will try to blow it off course as it goes by,” he said. “When that doesn’t work, they’ll park the second one in front of it and allow the asteroid to slam into it. Which isn’t going to work either because it’s coming too goddamn fast.”
“Won’t they ever tell us?”
“I expect it to leak, probably sooner than later.” He took a drink from the beer. “But so far they’ve managed to keep it secret.”
“And you’re not lying to me?” she said. “You’re not crazy?”
“Oh, well, I am a little crazy but I’m not lying.”
“How’d you get that scar on your chin?”
“Rifle butt.”
“Did it hurt?”
“I don’t know. I was out cold.”
She chuckled.
“If my buddy Wayne hadn’t shot the guy off of me, I’d be dead.”
“This really isn’t funny, is it?” she said. “Assuming you’re telling the truth, I mean.”
“It’s frightening as hell, if you ask me,” he said, “but what good’s pissing down our leg gonna do?”
“Not much. Where’s this supposed shelter of yours? How big is it?”
“That’s a secret. But it’s not too far away and it’s big enough.” He explained to her how long they would have to live underground and why, and then he told her about his friends and some of the people who would be joining them. “We’re not survival nuts. We’re just five guys trying to save some extra people while we’re busy saving our own asses.”
“Have you given any thought to the psychological effects of living underground for eighteen months?” she asked. “I hope you’ve added a psychiatrist to the mix.”
Forrest had never even considered it. “Damn, that’s probably a good idea.”
“Suppose you’re telling the truth and I decide to take you up on your offer. Can I bring my boyfriend? Or do I belong to you in this little fantasy of yours?”
He laughed, liking her. “You sound like someone else I know. Yeah, you can bring him. So long as he’s not prone to violence.”
“What about our parents?”
He shook his head.
“Just like that?”
“I’m sorry but there’s—”
“No,” she said, cutting him off. “I get it. What you’re saying makes perfect sense. I’m just seeing how deeply you’ve thought into this.”
He looked at her. “What do you do? Are you a psychiatrist?”
“No, that’s my boyfriend. I’m a sociologist,” she said. “What you’re proposing is really kind of fascinating. We discussed similar types of hypotheticals in school.” She hopped down from the hood and shook her hair out with her hands, instinctively aware of how that would affect him and not minding. “I sure hope you’re lying, but I’ll hold onto your number.”
“I’m Jack, by the way.”
“It’s been interesting, Jack.” She walked around to the other side of her car.
“No name?” he asked.
“I’ll tell you my name if we ever meet up again. How’s that? Until then you’re just some nut I ran into at the truck stop.”
“Safe journey, beautiful lady.”
“You too, Jack.” She paused before getting into the car. “It’s one of those old missile silos they’ve put up for sale out here, isn’t it?”
He smiled. “I made it all up.”
“Probably,” she said.
He caught a glimpse of her license plate as she drove off: VERNICA. “Veronica,” he said, jumping down from the hood. “That works.”
Four
Even in the dark Marty Chittenden could see the two agents in the gray sedan down the street from the home of Ester Thorn. He suspected they had probably tapped into her phone as well, so he was glad he hadn’t called ahead. He had never met Mrs. Thorn, but he knew she had once been a highly respected astronomer at the Gemini Observatory in Hawaii. And he suspected the Secret Service had found her textbook on heavenly bodies in his office.
He took a brand new pay-as-you-go phone from his pocket and dialed Susan Denton’s number, realizing he was taking a risk.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Hey, it’s me,” he said, relieved to hear her voice. “You okay?”
“Marty, where are you? You have to come back.”
“No can do, Sue. I only called to make sure you were okay.”
“I’ve signed a confidentiality agreement,” she said. “Linda said you’ll get the same deal if you come back.”
He snorted. “Sure, I will. Listen, I gotta go. They might be listening. Talk to you soon.”
“But Marty—”
He tucked it back into his pocket and moved off through the shadows. Creeping along between the houses, he made his way through several backyards and over fences. In the night, no one noticed him except for a dog barking in a kennel. Arriving at Ester’s back po
rch, he waited several moments to be sure no one was watching, then knocked at the door. A short time later the back porch light came on and Ester peered out the window. She was of medium height and wore her long gray hair in a single braid that came over her shoulder. Her grayish eyes were keen and alert, just like the photo on the back cover of her book, only older.
“Who the hell are you?” she said.
“My name is Martin Chittenden. I’m an astronomer with the Mesa Station Observatory in Flagstaff. I’m here because I need your help. I know you from your college textbook—Heavenly Bodies and Their Origins.”
Ester Thorn opened the inside door and stood leaning on her black lacquered cane. She looked him over and said, “Why the hell are you at my back door?”
“Because I don’t want anyone to see me,” he said. “Mrs. Thorn, I need to talk to you about an NEO that’s going to collide with the Earth in eighty-six days.”
“An NEO?” she said, visibly confused. “Why don’t you want anyone to see you?”
“Because the government is trying to keep it a secret. Mrs. Thorn, if you’ll just give me five minutes of your time, I can explain.”
After deciding that Marty looked a little too soft to be a dangerous criminal, Ester unlocked the storm door and let him in. “You try anything, boy, and I’ll crack you over the head with this thing.” She gestured with the cane.
“No ma’am. I’m only here for your help. Honest.”
She led him into the kitchen, where they sat at the table. Ester put on her glasses and took a hard look at him in the light. “Boy, you need some sun.”
“Well, I burn easily,” he said. “And I’m usually asleep during the day.”
“Mm-hm. I remember those days well enough.” She sat back in her chair with her right hand propped on the cane. “I prefer sleeping nights now. It’s better for my constitution.”
“I’m sure it is,” he said.
“Is Ben Stafford still down there at Mesa Station?”
Marty shook his head. “I’ve never heard that name. He must’ve left before I was hired.”
Cannibal Reign Page 3