The Waterhole

by Warren Chazan

  Gabi jerked with the sound of the gunshot. Thankfully, the bullet ricocheted past her, embedding itself in the adjacent wall. Gabi raised her right arm, took aim and fired a shot squarely into Jess’s chest, who flew backwards, her head hitting the hard floor. Blood dribbled down from her quivering mouth. In her desperation, she tried to speak. She managed to move her lips, but no words escaped and she was unable to ask for the mercy that she did not deserve.

  Her body began to convulse. A dark shadow swept over her and eventually consumed her life force. Then she was still.

  CHAPTER NINETY

  “Good thing you came in when you did, ma’am. Another few seconds and that would’ve been it for all of us,” said Simon.

  “I followed her over here,” Gabi explained. “The Secret Service has been tracking her all day. One of the President’s advisors sneaked a secret memo to me and told me where she was, so I snuck away and used a body double so as not to arouse suspicion. She’s playing the grieving widow back in Washington, while with a bit of help from my advisor and good friend, I was able to get to LA in a military F14 semi-orbiter via John Wayne Airport, which was still not flooded. Once in LA, we hired a four-wheel drive and followed her here. It was pretty treacherous at times, and I didn’t think we’d make it here in one piece, but we did. Agent Bourke dropped me off, and was then summoned back to Washington. He didn’t want to leave me here alone, but I insisted.”

  Wesley scratched his head. The day had become stranger by the minute. His eye caught sight of the night through the large bay window, and he wandered over to it. It was only about nine pm on their watches, but it was already about three am real-time. The aurora was incandescently bright, the full moon enormous in the eastern sky. It was almost as bright as an overcast day. Then he noticed a red sphere, about half the size of the normally sized Moon. He peered at the new find until it came to him. It was Mars.

  * * * *

  “Has anyone seen Drew?” asked Janine. She’d left Jack on the sofa in the small lounge room. Her brain felt overloaded, and she wasn’t able right now to process ridiculous notions of romance and dreams. How could she, when the world was about to implode?

  Steve and Sheri were sitting at one of the terminals, with Chloe fast asleep in Sheri’s lap.

  The professor was out cold, snoring rhythmically like an amplified metronome.

  “Nope,” said Sheri, “not in the last ten minutes or so.”

  Steve rubbed the two-day-old stubble on his chin. “I think he mentioned something about going outside to retrieve something from his car–a photo album, a book perhaps?”

  Sheri’s face paled. “Outside? Seriously?” she said, raising her voice. “Please tell me he wasn’t still dressed in those shorts and T-shirt?”

  Steve didn’t reply. He didn’t need to.

  Sheri quickly laid Chloe down on a nearby sofa, and the two off them raced off toward the entrance of the Stromlo complex.

  “I don’t understand,” yelled Janine as she followed them. “What’s going on?”

  Sheri shouted back to her as she ran, “We’ve just performed another check on the weak nuclear forces in the atom. Viscosity has increased. A drop in core body temperature of anything more than two degrees Fahrenheit will kill anyone now … And the temperature outside has dropped to twenty-three.”

  They reached the glass sliding door at the entrance. There was a blizzard raging outside, the swirling snow obscuring any detail of the landscape. Despite that, it didn’t take them long to spot Drew. He was lying face down in the snow, about sixty feet from the entrance, his bright-blue shorts standing out like a fully clothed person might do on a nudist beach. He wasn’t moving.

  * * * *

  Someone’s jacket was hanging on a hook. It was Jack’s. Sheri and Steve were still staring at Drew when Janine quickly threw the jacket around her, opened the door and bolted outside into the driving snow.

  “What are you doing?” yelled Steve, his voice drowned out by the screaming wind. “Are you insane?”

  Steve quickly began donning his own coat, when Sheri stopped him. “Don’t be even more foolish. Look how you’re dressed, and your body has zero insulation.”

  He sighed, but nodded in agreement.

  “She’ll be okay. That girl’s a fighter. She’s strong,” said Sheri, only half believing her words, watching the blurry figure disappear into the whiteout.

  CHAPTER NINETY-ONE

  The power of the wind almost knocked Janine to the ground as she trudged through the foot-deep snow. The cold hit her face like a physical punch and for a split second she couldn’t believe what she had done and why. Then she remembered Drew.

  She saw the blue shorts partly covered in snow, about ten feet from her. Thank god for Jack’s jacket. He wasn’t kidding when he said that it was warm, but it provided no warmth to her legs or her face. Otherwise dressed in a pair of jeans, a cotton blouse, sneakers and a light scarf, she was nowhere near prepared for the arctic conditions.

  After almost losing her footing twice, she eventually arrived at Drew’s side. She felt a shiver set in, and she knew that she didn’t have long. If he were still alive, her plan was to drag him back by the T-shirt through the snow, but even though he weighed no more than one hundred and twenty pounds, it was going to be a considerable task.

  She knelt down beside him, the twirling snow biting at her face as she felt his neck for a pulse. There was none. She rolled him over, and it was evident from his blankly staring eyes that he’d been dead for some time. It was then that she felt the first twinge of pain in her chest. She was running out of time. Her body temperature was dropping. Disorientated, with visibility down to a few feet, she couldn’t ascertain the direction from which she had come. She saw a flicker of light behind her, stood up and raced toward it. The pain in her chest was intensifying. Thirty seconds later the door snapped open for her and she came bursting inside, plummeting to the floor, her hand clutching at the excruciating pain reaching a crescendo in her chest.

  * * * *

  “Jesus, you had us worried,” said Steve. He’d found a couple more coats and was piling them over her. Sheri brought her a cup of warm water and told her to drink it. “How’s the chest pain?”

  “It’s slowly easing off. I was too late. He’s been dead at least ten minutes.” Her face was starting to get some color back, and a few stray tears streamed down her cheeks, which she quickly brushed away.

  “Poor man,” said Steve. “He was probably going to get some old relic his father had left him. He kept telling me how much he missed him.”

  Sheri thought of her own father. His favorite saying was always, “Ninety-nine percent of all the things you worry about never happen, so don’t worry!” How ironic and selfish, coming from a man who had taken his own life.

  An alarm sounded. “That must be NASA. They must have news,” said Sheri. They had less than ten minutes left before the tide was scheduled to reach the south pylon of EMB. The three of them raced back to the control room.

  Simon and Wesley were online. “We’re ready to go, guys,” said Wesley.

  Sheri’s hands were twitching. “Does everyone understand what they have to do and the time frame to do it in?”

  Wesley said, “Yes, Sheri, and I have a green board. All looking good here, less than three minutes to Simon’s initiation sequence.”

  “Simon, you all set?” she asked.

  “All good, just finished running through my final checks, and found two small bugs. I’ve ironed them both out and I’ve a good feeling about this.”

  “How long will it take you to punch in the sequence to disable the firewall?” Sheri asked.

  “About two minutes. Once that’s done, it’ll take me maybe two or three minutes to download the virus. Then I just press send.”

  “Wesley, how close is the water to EMB?” she asked.

  “I checked the CC cameras about five minutes ago, and it’s still about sixteen feet away. I predict we’ll have about eight to n
ine minutes before it reaches the first pylon. Seconds after it does, we’ll all be blown to kingdom come.”

  “Simon, remember that time is of the essence here. There’s no second chances, no dress rehearsals. We’ve got to get it right the first time,” she reiterated.

  “Understood.” His voice was taut with tension. “Sheri …”

  “Yes?”

  “Sorry … for everything.”

  She didn’t respond, but felt a knot in her throat.

  Janine approached her, still shivering, two blankets draped around her. “Is there anything Jack or I can do to help? We both feel so helpless.”

  Sheri put her hand on Janine’s shoulder. “You’ve done more than enough. If it wasn’t for you risking your life with that information, none of this would be possible.”

  Wesley said, “Sheri, I still have a green board. Anything of concern at your side?”

  “Nope all looks good from here, Wesley,” she responded, clasping her hands together.

  Wesley said, “Counting down. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four.”

  The first lady, caught up in the unfolding drama, scratched at her itchy scalp before casually dropping her hand to her side. It brushed up against Simon’s metallic desk.

  A bright spark leapt from her index finger, crossed the desk then raced down his computer terminal, igniting components in his monitor before sending electrical tentacles across to other monitor screens, destroying successive terminals around the room, as it spread like a greedy cancer. Small explosions leapt from monitor to monitor.

  “Oh my god,” said Sheri, watching with horror as the scene unfolded on the vidcom in front of her. After what seemed like an eternity, the sparks ceased. The room was enveloped in plumes of thick billowing smoke.

  CHAPTER NINETY-TWO

  “I’m so sorry,” said Gabi, her hands cupped over her mouth, the rancid odour of singed electronics permeating the room. She burst into tears.

  Wesley quickly ran up to her and flung an arm around her. “It’s not your fault. We forgot to kit you out with antistatic measures.” Despite his words, he couldn’t believe what had just happened. It was an utter disaster.

  “Damage report?” asked Sheri from the vidcom link. She, too, had tears flowing down her cheeks.

  Wesley sat the inconsolable first lady down, and scanned over his board. Miraculously it still seemed to be functioning normally.

  “Okay,” he said, “there’s good news and bad news.”

  “Good news first,” said Sheri, through clenched teeth.

  “It seems that EMB has escaped damage. She’s still showing one hundred percent activity, as are all the computers that feed her.”

  “The bad news?”

  “Every single terminal in this room that links to EMB’s computers has short-circuited. We have no way of accessing EMB, and I’m not sure if Simon’s program has been affected.”

  “Simon?” Sheri queried, her eyes wide.

  “No problem here, I backed up onto a micro-drive. My program can be directly downloaded through a port on EMB’s south pylon,” he responded.

  “What a relief.” Sheri sighed heavily.

  “So, no problem?” asked Steve cautiously.

  “I’m afraid there is,” said Simon. “I need access to a terminal in order to deactivate the firewall.”

  “Damn!” yelled Wesley.

  “How much time do we have left?” asked Sheri.

  “Six, maybe seven minutes,” said Wesley. “That water is getting mighty close!”

  Wesley raced over to Simon’s frazzled terminal. He had a plan that just might work. He handed him a piece of paper and a pen.

  “Start writing.”

  “What?” asked Simon, his head cocked to the side, his eyes darting back and forth between Wesley and his screen.

  “Trust me, start writing what you were going to enter into your computer.”

  Simon snatched the pen and began scribbling down numbers and formulas.

  “Neatly,” instructed Wesley. “I can’t afford to make a mistake.”

  Simon looked at the man as if he’d just announced to the world that he was in fact an alien. Janine, who had just returned from checking on Jack in the adjacent room, ventured over to Sheri. “What’s he doing?” she asked, crossing her arms tightly in front of her.

  “I don’t have time to explain, but I think it will work,” responded Sheri.

  The team watched as Simon continued to legibly scribble numbers down as fast as he could.

  Wesley began to focus, concentrating his thoughts on the various formulas and digits. It was time to put his experiment to the test. He would play the role of a terminal interface, transferring the critical information from his brain wirelessly across to EMB, bypassing the computers.

  Pressure began to build inside his skull, his modified brain starting to work like it had never done before. He sensed a warm liquid trickle down onto his chin and realised it was blood escaping from his nose.

  “Almost there, another four equations and we’re done,” said Simon, tapping his fingers together, as he watched the equations and various numbers appear on EMB’s interface.

  The water was no more than three feet away from the pylon.

  CHAPTER NINETY-THREE

  “Done,” said Wesley, as he transferred the last of the equations across to EMB using his new, highly evolved frontal cortex. He felt the sweat sticking to his cotton shirt, and then watched in horror as a rash of raised weals spread over his arms.

  “You alright, Wes?” asked Sheri.

  “Yep, don’t worry about me, a side effect of the technology. I’m not supposed to do this under pressure. Did it work?”

  Simon scanned the panel. “Where’s the firewall LED?” he asked Wesley.

  “It’s on the smaller board across the room.”

  The two of them raced over to the panel just in time to see a small red LED, marked firewall, flash and convert over from red to green.

  “Yes!” yelled Wesley. “We’ve done it.” He wiped the sticky blood from his nose with his rolled up white sleeve.

  * * * *

  “Guys, I hate to interrupt your little party, but you have maybe five minutes at most to get Simon’s virus patch delivered to EMB,” said Sheri. Her heart was hammering away, the tension unbearable. “Simon, to save time, can you transfer the program via Wesley?” she asked.

  “Afraid not. It’ll take way too long that way. We don’t have the time. I’ve got to get to EMB’s south pylon.”

  “What’s the temperature outside?” asked Sheri. “We don’t need you ending up like Drew.”

  “That’s not going to be an issue here,” Wesley said. “We’ve got a balmy seventy-five degrees here. Southern California hasn’t seen the ice yet. No doubt it’s coming.”

  “Good. Simon, get going.”

  Simon grabbed the micro-disc and leapt from his chair. His wrist tracker had caught the edge of the desk, pulling him over. He landed awkwardly on his right side, his rib cage taking most of the impact. He screamed in pain.

  “Jesus, Simon. Are you okay?” asked Sheri.

  He shook his head, struggling to catch his breath.

  “Wesley, can you do it?”

  Wesley shrugged. “I could try, but to be honest with you, I’m not the fittest, in case you hadn’t noticed.” He put his hand on his large belly. “I think this is likely to hold me back. The water will reach the pylon before I do.”

  The man was built like a sumo wrestler, but Sheri was desperate. They were left with only two options: the general and the first lady. But neither of them had any idea of what they’d need to do and by the time they explained the details, it would be too late.

  Breathing shallowly, Simon managed, “Sheri, I have an idea. It’ll buy us more time.” He was fiddling with the micro-disc. He lifted himself off the floor, screwing up his face as he made it into his chair. “I’ll upload this to you. Listen carefully to me. You need to reverse the direction of infor
mation flow. You guys at Stromlo are then going to do what we don’t have time to do here. You’re going to upload it on your side at the sister pylon, and Stromlo is going to send the signal back to our cosmic friends.”

  “Can that even be done?” Sheri asked, her heart surging with the news.

  “I’ve seen the blueprints, remember. You need to reconfigure EMB. Reverse the direction of data flow.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “There’s a program that one of your engineers configured about three years ago. It’s labeled ‘signal return.’ I came across it while I was designing the original virus. It can be done, but you’ve got to initiate it immediately. Stromlo still has full power, and if you can get it done before the water hits here, there’s still hope.”

  “Won’t the shutdown at your end affect everything here?”

  “Not if we isolate the two systems. Stromlo will become the transmitter, and we will become the receiver. The receiver will fail, but it’s not necessary for what we need to do.”

  Sheri searched for the program she could barely remember authorizing. It came up on her display. “Simon, it will take three minutes to run.” She looked at the water on the CCTV inching its way steadily toward the south pylon. It couldn’t be more than a foot away now.

  “Do it, Sheri, and do it now!”

  CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR

  Sheri set the program into motion. There was a whirring sound as the computers all around the room hummed to life.

  “Have you downloaded the virus I’ve just sent you?” asked Simon.