The police car in front of Agent Stevens is unable to dodge the crash. Its side collides with the tumbling car, causing it to spin around.
Stevens quickly maneuvers his car away, but the spinning police car sideswipes part of his front. Instinctively, he pulls away and avoids further damage.
Then, the police car crosses into the adjacent lane, slams into another car, and spins to a halt.
Etelson is oblivious to the crash scene, while she looks back at the bridge, mesmerized by the sight.
Within a brief few seconds, the dark storm cloud closes in and reaches the sky directly above them. Her eyes follow, as the cloud increases in diameter and swells in depth. It speeds through and engulfs the expanse overhead.
Etelson tilts her head up, and from right to left, she follows the sweeping sprawl of the storm cloud. Her eyes pan from outside her window, then across the top of the windshield, and then outside Stevens’ window. Leaning forward, she follows the growth of the terrifying cloud through the frame of the driver’s side window.
In awe, she can say only one quiet word, “Whoa.”
The storm cloud now engulfs the sky in all directions.
As the agents speed down the freeway, the sky completely blackens, turning day into night.
Stevens looks up at his rearview mirror, watching headlights behind him automatically turn on.
Suddenly, hard rain begins to fall. As larger drops collide into their car’s windshield, Stevens quickly flips on his wipers. The rain swoops unhindered into their car, through the broken front and back passenger side windows.
Immediately, the backrest of Agent Etelson’s seat becomes drenched, and the side of her suit jacket is instantly soaked. Trying to avoid the cold rain, she jerks to the center of their sedan and cries out, “Oh, damn-it, Rye!”
Stevens glances at his partner. With an unexpected grin, he says above the din of the wind-driven rain, “Surf’s up, surfer girl!”
* * * * * * *
Down at the concrete base of the bridge’s south suspension tower, the longhaired man lies on his back.
As unrelenting rain drives into his face, he turns his head to the side.
Wisely, he takes the time to let his body regain its strength.
Earlier, the force of the blast and the ensuing shock wave propelled him into the bay, breaking his arm on impact. He healed it while treading in the water. Afterwards, he transported himself to the base of the bridge.
Now, completely exhausted, he slowly raises a weak arm and a limp hand with it. Still facing the side and with his eyes closed, he points a finger into the sky and calls out in a yelp, “…next in line, please. Now serving the next missile in line.” His limp hand motions to wave in and coax in a next missile.
“No takers?” he sighs. Relieved, he says, “Five. That’s five. I’m done.”
His arm flops back down.
After a few deep breaths and moments of utterly no movement, he then raises his head and props himself up on his elbows. His head tilts back to let the rain comb back his hair.
Then, after vigorously shaking his head, he turns himself around and stands on his feet.
His thoughts turn to one person.
“Now Paige,” he says, “She needs my help.”
He last knew that she and Sik were in the Marsters Hotel. So, his mind looks for them there. Not finding either of them, he begins to scan out in larger and larger radii, further away from the hotel.
His mind finds Sik at the wheel of his truck, but he still cannot locate Paige. Deciding to press Sik for where Paige is, he says, “On the 880. I’m there.”
He disappears.
A second later, he reappears back at the base of the tower, because he received a vision in the middle of his transport.
Looking down at his feet, he puts his hands on his hips, in gesture of disappointment. Quickly shaking his head, he asks in a bit of disbelief, “I’m sorry, what was that? What did Smiley do?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer. A little irked, he asks another question, “Did they just shoot off five more super-sized bottle rockets?”
As he stares straight ahead, the vision comes again.
Shaking his head and waving a hand in displeasure, he says, “Oh, no, no, no. The thing I just said about “Next in line” I…” He gasps out a brief laugh of disbelief. “I was just joking!”
His hands stretch out, as a plea to no one in particular, as his eyes look around to find no one in particular. He complains, “Five more!”
After a while, the hands go to the top of his head, clasping each other. In exasperation, his eyes close, and he breathes in deep a few times.
“…five more,” he whispers.
The previous ones have taken their toll, and it’s possible, he thinks, that a certain someone would again interfere, to cause him much more misery.
His thoughts go silent.
A moment later, sequential thundering from above blares and echoes in his ears. The falling rain becomes heavier, starting to strike the concrete base and the bay with greater force. Hail mingles in with the freezing rain.
Opening his eyes, he says quietly, “Poor guy - that Smiley. He tried.” Lowering his hands to his sides, he adds, “Ok, I’m there.” Then, with both resolve and enthusiasm he lets out, “Letz do it!”
He vanishes.
Gul waits. His heart, lungs, and gut tighten.
Earlier, relief came to his soul when controllers, inside the theater in front of him, confirmed no nuclear detonation and no nuclear fallout from the fifth missile.
However, now there are five U.S. Minuteman III ICBMs blasting their way across the country, toward their targets, that require an abortive solution from the Generals. With no proof of nuclear attack, the United States would be blamed and reviled for commencing a nuclear world war.
Through the glass pane, Gul sees Screen 3 showing the terminated red path of the fifth warhead. Additionally, five glowing icons trace blue lines on the screen, starting from their launch points in the U.S. Midwest.
Screen 2 depicts the fourth and last storm cloud centered over San Francisco that continues to wax in diameter and will soon extend into Nevada, and then into Oregon.
General Parsin, Tomer, and two other officers gather behind the second row of control stations, discussing options to abort the Minuteman III strikes, should the President order it.
Gul’s eyes widen, as he notices something on the Screen 3.
“General,” the controller calls out, as he turns around from his monitor. “General Parsin, sir,” he repeats.
Parsin finishes his sentence to General Tomer, and then turns to give the controller his attention.
The controller points back to Screen 3 and says reluctantly, “Sir, we just lost one of our five missiles.”
The General darts his eyes up to Screen 3. Suddenly, a second missile disappears.
Gul smiles.
General Parsin moves his head back down to face the controller. “What’s happening, son?” he asks bewildered.
The controller stares blankly up at Screen 3.
A third one vanishes.
“I don’t know, sir,” the controller says, now completely frozen and bewildered. He catches himself, and then snaps his head down and types hurriedly on his computer. “Sir, systems and satellites were and are showing a GO. So, I can’t explain what is happening…sir.”
The fourth missile goes away.
Gul’s smile is uncontrollable. He leans in closer to the glass pane. His hands make a tight fist against it, and he holds his breath.
All stare at the last remaining one.
It vanishes.
In his excitement, Gul’s fists pound rapidly against the glass. He abruptly stops. Then, he celebrates with a protracted yell, “Yes!” Afterwards, his fists pound rhythmically and quickly once again. Now, with a broad smile on his face, he yells out once more, “Yeessssss!”
All the men inside hear his muffled yet clearly audible shouts of joy, as the gl
ass panes shake and rattle. Everyone slowly turns to face Gul.
Gul has a wide-open smile. He waves a thumbs-up at all of them while excitedly bouncing up and down on his toes.
The men inside, not sure whether to react similarly as Gul at the loss of their own missiles, cautiously turn and glance at General Parsin for their cue.
Soon, with his excitement and celebration complete, Gul exhales. His forehead presses onto the glass, and then sinks down with a squeak. His eyes close. With another grateful exhale, and still with a smile on his face, he whispers, “Thank you, Jesus. Thank you. Thank you.”
After dispatching the last missile and turning every piece of it into fine confetti, the goateed man decides to rest and hover in the air. Far below him, he can see the states of Wyoming, Montana, and North and South Dakota. The view is both inspiring and amazing.
“I love this country,” he sighs in satisfaction. Then, turning to face the west, he thinks, That wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I guess my mystery pal wasn’t interested in these.”
He decides to turn his attention back to his previous plan.
Instantly, he appears in the passenger seat of Sik’s black truck, as it dashes down the 880 Freeway. Facing Sik, who is focused on dodging the police cars at his side, he sees Paige in the back seat from the corner of his eye. Quickly, he tries to move her out of the truck, but it does not work. Strangely, his eyes can see her, but his mind still cannot sense her. Deciding to pursue another means, he turns back to Sik. With an exaggerated smile on his face, he greets Sik, “Hi, big boy!”
Without hesitating and without being surprised that next to him a person has just materialized from out of nowhere, Sik growls, immediately leans in, and slugs him in the jaw.
With a snap, the goateed man’s head spins completely in the opposite direction. His eyes show a wide, almost comical expression, as they roll in their sockets. Surprisingly, as his head whips around, he is able to catch a glimpse of the Amtrak train heading south, parallel to the freeway. His head snaps back, and he yells, “Ouch! You pri…I was gonna be nice!” The fingers of his hand rub the point of impact on his jaw.
Sik cocks his arm back and swings again.
But his fist is met by a very large, clown-faced balloon that has suddenly appeared between the two of them, completely blocking one man from the other.
Sik’s fist bounces back.
The balloon dissolves into thin air, and where it used to be, the goateed man sticks his face out. “See!” he protests, “Clownie face. Cool down, Sammy boy…take a Prozac, a chill pill, whatever it takes! But just make nice.”
A police car attempts to cut off Sik’s vehicle from the side.
Sik swerves into its path. His tires skid and burn against the road, as his truck cuts off the police car. Then, Sik turns his attention to back to the man in his passenger seat and swings again.
But the man is able to dodge the fist.
Ahead is a rapidly approaching freeway overpass.
Casually, the goateed man leans back against the passenger’s side door and uses his arm to hug the top of his seat. Coolly, he says, “So, Sammy, I heard this vicious rumor that you’re turning yourself in. What are you gonna…”
Sik vanishes.
Quickly the goateed man checks the back seat. Paige is gone.
He blurts, “No! He can’t be like me. He’s not like me!” He turns and peers out the passenger window. With his face and hands pressed against it, he finishes his thought, “…He’s too pretty.”
Suddenly, a sense of urgency overcomes him, and he quickly turns to face the road.
The truck has angled itself into the concrete suspension columns, at the right side of the overpass; and now, it is running off onto the pavement. A split second later, it violently slams into a suspension column.
The front bumper, engine, and hood crunch and fold in, cracking the windshield into hundreds of pieces. The shock of the impact reaches the side windows and shatters them into innumerable tiny cubes.
Two police cars screech to a halt at one side of Sik’s vehicle. Another one stops at the other side, with lights flashing and siren blaring.
Agent Stevens stops his sedan immediately behind the black truck. Detective Kwan pulls in parallel to him.
At once, everyone dashes out of their cars, with guns raised and ready.
The hard rain immediately drenches them.
Cautiously, the six officers approach the truck, yelling, “Freeze!” and “Hands on the wheel!”
Agent Etelson, flanked by Agent Stevens and Detective Kwan, stalks the truck.
With their firearms raised, the three peer inside, looking through the driver’s side, then the passenger’s side window, and then into the back seat.
But the longhaired man is no longer inside the crumpled vehicle. He has escaped the crash.
Some of the officers lower their weapons.
Etelson is perplexed. “Rye,” she says in somewhat of a question while searching the emptied vehicle. Lowering her gun, she turns completely around and scans her surroundings. Then, she turns directly to Stevens. Deeply puzzled, she asks, “What the heck happened here, Rye?!”
* * * * * * *
Heading south, above the Amtrak train, and at the same speed, the longhaired goateed man flies just above the roof of one of the double-decker passenger cars, at the back half of the train. Far to his right is San Francisco Bay. As the train travels at its regular cruising speed, the wind is fast but not turbulent at his position. He sees, at his sides, the clusters of one and two-story warehouses and buildings, separated by either large, open parking spaces or vacant fields. As he speeds by them, they create a pulsing beat in his ears of high-and low-pitched rushing air.
Within the car, on the top deck, are Paige, Sik, and no one else.
Ahead of him are much of the same warehouses and fields over and over for a great distance. But further down, unknown to him, the hooded man stands on the roof of a warehouse, adjacent to the railroad, waiting for his approach.
The longhaired man transports himself inside the top deck of the car. At the middle section are the two people he seeks. Paige, still unconscious, sits next to the window and leans on Sik, who has his arm around her.
Sik sees him and glares.
Standing a few steps in front of Sik, he grabs a silver vertical handrail in order to stabilize his stance. Trying to reason with Sik, he says in a low patient voice, “Alright. Let’s just talk calmly.” Taking a step, he holds onto the next rail. Raising his other hand, he says, “We’ll just kick it, dude to dude. Is that good? All that slugging we were doing…uh, you were doing back there, I’m willing to treat as water under the overpass that we…uh, I almost crashed into.”
He takes another step. “You still have a choice in this, Sam.”
“Sik,” Sik immediately corrects him, with only his upper lip moving.
He nods cautiously, “Alright, Sik it is.” Continuing in his conciliatory tone, he says, “Sik, no matter what you’ve done in the past, you can still decide now, this moment, to change direction. Go on a different path.” Taking another cautious step, he holds the next handrail and continues, “Surprise everyone. Fake ‘em out because you’ve done something out of the ordinary.’ He stops, now three steps away. ‘Do something different. Decide to do what’s good and right. Do something no one around you could have predicted.’
He waits for a response.
Sik lowers his eyes and thinks.
The train gently rocks them left and right.
Sik slowly raises his head and moves his eyes to gaze outside a window. After a long moment, Sik turns his attention to Paige. He takes his arm from around her and leans her slowly and carefully between the window and the seat. Then, he turns from her, calmly stands, and steps into the aisle.
Incredulous that what he said actually worked, the longhaired man has to pause in a bit of surprise. Then, he tilts his head and raises his eyebrows, as if asking to be allowed to continue walking fo
rward. He waits for further movement from Sik.
Sik takes a step back.
The longhaired man raises his opened hand a bit higher. “Ok. Are…are we good?”
With his face emotionless, Sik nods.
“Ok,” the man says, as he takes two cautious steps forward. Still unable to have his mind either sense or move her, he says, “I’m just gonna check her for a bit.”
Responding, Sik takes another step back.
The longhaired man makes another deliberately slow step to Paige. Finally, he reaches the seat and leans himself down, with his hand on the top of the chair’s backrest.
In a low somber voice, Sik speaks, saying, “I’m sorry…”
As the longhaired man reaches for Paige’s shoulder, he thinks he may just hear an apology from Sik.
Sik continues, “But now, I’m in this all the way.”
The man’s head barely turns to look at Sik, and just before he realizes what Sik has said, Sik leaps and pounces down on him, grabbing him around the waist.
The two fall down to the black floor of the narrow aisle. Pieces of skin from their arms burn and peel away, as they scrape over the floor.
Sik lands on top of him and begins to swing his fists.
The man turns around, faces Sik, and blocks Sik’s strikes.
With a heave from his legs and arms, the man pushes Sik off. The strong and sudden motion tosses Sik legs-first into the air and flips Sik completely over, making him land on his own back.
Standing, the man quickly warns, “Don’t do this, Sam!”
Sik scrambles to his feet. With both hands grabbing a rail on either side of the aisle, Sik lifts himself and kicks out both his feet to strike his opponent, flying through the air feet first.
The longhaired man dodges by sliding into the seat beside him, while Sik lands behind him.
The man backhands Sik, landing his fist on the back of Sik’s head. As Sik stumbles, the man pounds his other fist into Sik’s lower jaw.
RB 01 Through Flesh & Bone Page 56