Killshot (Icarus Series Book 1)

by Aria Michaels

  I placed the gauze pad gently onto the burn in his palm. I tore off a few strips of tape and pressed them to my pant-leg to save time. As much as I was enjoying our time together, I needed to hurry this process along. The heat was starting to get to me, and my head was throbbing. Zander’s hand was more important than a stress headache, but the pulsing in my head was wearing me out.

  “So, what happened?” I asked.

  “I still don’t know, really. Something just wasn’t right with him,” Zander shook his head. “When he wasn’t teaching me some random talent, he would lock himself in the little closet he called his office. I wasn’t allowed in and he rarely came out, so it was like he wasn’t really there, you know?”

  I didn’t, but I nodded anyway, intrigued by his story.

  “One day, while he was in the bathroom, I snuck in to check it out. Liv, there were maps everywhere, with pins and strings zigzagging all over. There were files stacked upon files and random pictures strewn all over the place. I mean, real conspiracy nut-job type stuff,” His brows lifted as he spoke. “I wanted to dig through it, but he busted me before I could get a closer look.”

  “Yikes.” I pressed the tape onto the end of the bandage, securing it to the gauze and started slowly wrapping his hand.

  “The next day, when I was at school, he put three more locks on the door. He got really paranoid and was always looking over his shoulder,” Zander said, shaking his head. “If I asked him about the room he would just say, ‘not yet, Alexander. You are not ready. I promise, son, one day this will all make sense.’ So far, it still doesn’t.”

  I nodded, listening intently in the hope that he would continue. My stomach had been fluttering since he touched my hair, so I avoided his eyes, afraid mine would give me away. I slowly wrapped the ace bandage around his hand, steadily focused on avoiding his face. Zander caught me off guard, slid his free hand beneath my chin, and raised it so our eyes met.

  “Okay, enough about me,” Zander said. His smile was completely disarming. “I would much rather hear all about you, Liv Larson. What’s your story?”

  “No story,” I shrugged, dodging his stare. I taped the bandage across the top of his hand. “There you go. All set.”

  “What? No way,” he laughed, raising a brow at me. “I just spilled my metaphorical guts all over this smelly closet, and all I get is, no story?”

  “We should get back,” I said, turning hastily toward the door.

  “Jesus, Liv,” Zander said, shooting to his feet, eyes wide. “Your head. It’s bleeding.”

  “What?” I ran my fingers through my hair, and they came away covered in blood. I stared down at them, baffled by my crimson fingertips. “That’s…whoa.”

  “God, Liv, please sit down before you fall over,” he said, gently tugging me back to the desk. “How did you do this?”

  “I— I don’t know,” my eyes widened as comprehension dawned. “Up on the roof. I banged my head on the wall pretty hard when you opened the door. It didn’t hurt that much, though. I didn’t notice until you said something.”

  “Adrenaline,” Zander said, shaking his head. He began dabbing at the cut with a clean towel.

  “Ahh,” I hissed, suddenly very aware of the pain.

  “Shit, I’m sorry, Liv.” Zander paled and, if possible, he was sweating even more. “I am not a doctor, so you’ll have to walk me through this, okay?”

  “Right, okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Move the hair aside and tell me how deep the cut is.”

  Zander shook his hands nervously as he stepped closer to me. He touched my scalp gingerly and carefully removed the hair tie so he could get at the cut more easily. “It’s like an inch long maybe, but it doesn’t look too deep.”

  “It’s a superficial laceration, then,” I said, trying to remain calm. “That’s good.”

  My vision was getting a bit fuzzy, though, and I was suddenly very aware of the stinging pain in the back of my head. This explained the headache I had been suffering. I felt my stomach lurch, so I breathed slowly through my nose, refusing to throw up.

  “Just clean it with the peroxide and then you can close it up,” I said, gritting my teeth as I dug through the desk drawer. I found what I needed, and plopped down heavily onto the desktop, while Zander grabbed a fresh bottle of peroxide from the shelf.

  “Right, okay. Wait,” he said. His eyes went wide as they rested on the stapler next to my leg. “Close it up with what?”

  “Oh, no, not with this,” I said laughing despite the pain. I pushed the stapler aside and held up the small tube. “With this.”

  “Superglue?” Zander looked worried. “Won’t that—”

  “Yeah,” I said, closing my eyes to stop the room from spinning. “It’s gonna burn like a hell, but we have to do it or it will just keep bleeding.”

  “Liv, I don’t think I can do this.” Zander took a step back, shaking his head. “I don’t want to hurt—”

  “You can handle this, Zan,” I said, grabbing his good hand. “It’ll be easier than sewing on a button.”

  Chapter 11

  Homeland Insecurity

  “You did it. Holy crap, it’s working,” Micah yelled from across the room. “Guys, come check this out!”

  He was shaking as he anxiously waved us over. Everyone rushed to his side, piling in close around the seventeen-inch monitor. Jake, still hacking away at the keyboard, kept his eyes trained ahead as he fine-tuned the picture on the screen.

  “Hang on, just a—okay, got it,” Jake said, his hands shooting up in triumph. “So, all I could get was USA World News and the signal is really weak, but I think this is the best we are gonna get, considering.”

  “Great job, man,” Zack said, clapping him on the shoulder. “That’s just impressive.”

  “Shhhhhhh,” someone hissed.

  Jake turned up the volume until it echoed through the recesses of the room, and everyone went silent. A red banner ticked slowly across the bottom of the screen; FEMA DECLARES STATE OF NATIONAL EMERGENCY. A very pale, very sweaty, middle-aged man in a simple gray suit stood behind a wooden podium that read, U.S. Department of Homeland Security.

  “Move your ass, dude,” Mike elbowed Andy.

  “You move your ass, dude,” Andy shoved back.

  “Shut up,” Jake bit out, scowling over his shoulder at both of them.

  “…and FEMA has officially declared Solar Storm Icarus the most devastating weather related catastrophe in our nation’s history,” the man said. “Local authorities are urging residents to seek shelter immediately. Do not attempt to travel. Stay in your homes and move into a heavily insulated area. If you do not have a basement or storm shelter below ground level, go to the most centrally located room in your house, on the lowest floor. Avoid rooms with windows or exterior doors.”

  The man at the podium, most likely a reporter or low-level government employee, did not seem comfortable speaking in front of the camera. He kept his eyes focused on the cards in front of him as he spoke.

  “Do not go outside. I repeat, do not go outside. Radiation readings have reached unprecedented levels and we do not yet know how high they will go. Temperatures have reached nearly two hundred degrees in some parts of the world. I fear this is just the beginning of what Icarus has in store for us. Here with us today to shed some light on this situation, is Dr. James Taylor, director of ….”

  “Two hundred degrees! That’s not even possible, is it?” Mike screeched. “I call bullshit. No way. This guy doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about!”

  “There’s no way,” Andy said, shaking his head frantically.

  Falisha, who had ditched her cheerleader get-up in favor cut off sweats and pink t-shirt, slapped them both in the back of the head. “You two hush, the grown-ups are talking now.”

  Both of them rubbed their heads and glared back at her, but fell silent just the same. An older gentleman had stepped up to the podium in the midst of their exchange. Something about his presence, and t
he way he gathered himself at the podium before he spoke, drew everyone in. Behind him, stood two very scary looking guys in black suits. They positioned themselves at his flanks with their arms crossed over their chests. Their earpieces were clearly visible.

  Dr. Taylor was not unattractive for an older guy, but his disheveled appearance was cause for concern. His salt-and-pepper gray hair was in disarray and his eyes were sunken and hollow against his pale skin. He wore a navy blue suit jacket that hung loose, and clearly did not belong to him, over a wrinkled pale blue dress shirt. The buttons were misaligned and it looked as though he may very well have slept in it.

  Taylor looked over his shoulder at one of the stiffs. The man gave him a nearly imperceptible shake of his head and shifted his right hand towards his hip. Taylor took a deep breath and refocused his glassy blue eyes directly into the camera. The entire exchange took maybe three seconds. That was all it took for my nerves to go on high-alert. The doctor cleared his throat and flattened his palms against the podium as he spoke.

  “At 9:02 pm Eastern Standard Time this evening, a series of celestial events were set in motion that will determine not only the fate of mankind, but that of all life on this planet,” he said soberly.

  Taylor’s eyes looked vacant against the deep circles that shadowed them. He seemed to be struggling for words, but when one of the men behind him cleared his throat, the doctor continued.

  “Initial studies of the solar grid suggested that tonight’s solar maximum event would have little more than a moderate impact on our planet. Satellite read-outs predicted a temporary three to five-degree temperature increase for the areas within range, with aurora visibility limited primarily to those territories above the equator. There was nothing in the initial data to suggest a solar storm of this magnitude.

  “Nevertheless, temperature increases began registering hours before our mapping suggested, and large scale auroras were reported as far south as Argentina. Many of the satellites orbiting our planet have been rerouted, or in some cases, completely destroyed, by orbital debris movement. We lost twenty-three small scale units before the main flare event even took place.”

  Taylor pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed the sweat from his brow and upper lip, before stuffing it back inside. Then he took a long, slow, drink of water from a stout glass at his side.

  “A few hours ago, one of those grounded units was recovered just outside of San Diego, California. We were able to extract images and data from the unit’s memory, which revealed the underlying cause of this shift. Early this morning, a small sunspot on the tail of the Icarus sunbelt, combusted. While we have not yet determined the cause of the initial blast, we can only surmise that this influx of energy is what launched the entire belt into a massive solar eruption.”

  “Shit,” Jake whispered.

  “By the time Icarus reached the surface of the Earth, the preceding radiation blasts from the catalyst flare had already degraded a major portion of our magnetosphere. The timing of this temporary soft spot in that protective layer, coincided with the largest of the solar flares, allowing some of the hyper-charged particles created by Solar Storm Icarus to slip through. The initial breach occurred about five hundred miles southwest of the North Pole and created the aurora witnessed globally.

  “These projections were mere echoes of the solar radiation and magnetic waves from the first of the smaller flares hitting the outer layers of our planet’s protective umbrella. By the time our remote sensors registered the anomaly, its external communication software had already been disabled. Once we finally knew what we were dealing with, it was too late. We were not able to—” The man on his right shifted his weight forward a fraction and Taylor stopped short. He looked briefly over his shoulder again, and then took a deep breath.

  “Despite our best efforts, the global science community was simply unprepared for an event of this magnitude. The radiation levels are far greater than we could have anticipated. Those directly exposed to the initial cloud were…”

  Taylor sighed, removed his glasses, and set them down on the podium letting his head fall to his chest. The two suits glared at him from behind. Something about the way they leaned in had my skin crawling.

  “The biochemical damage has, thus far, been irreversible and in all documented cases, fatal. The unfiltered solar winds reached the surface of our planet less than ninety minutes after Icarus reached critical mass causing fires, world-wide electrical disturbances, and massive lightning fields. The images from the recovered satellite showed a large field of space matter directly in the path of Icarus, and while we cannot confirm the trajectory, it is likely this cosmic debris has already been dragged into our atmosphere. Based on the burn rate of the primary ionic cloud and the speed with which Icarus reached Earth, we believe that phase one of this solar storm should subside within the next twelve to twenty-four hours,” said Taylor.

  “That’s good news, right?” Riley whispered, nudging me.

  I shrugged, my eyes glued to the screen.

  “Make no mistake,” Taylor said, “the danger is not yet beyond us. While the radiation from the storm has a brief half-life, current readings remain at critical levels. Current global temperatures, thus far, exceed survivability, and the storm has just begun. The epicenter of Icarus’s geomagnetic shock wave should reach Earth in, approximately, eighteen hours.”

  “Shit,” Jake said again, fisting a handful of hair atop his head.

  “The consequences of a pulse of this magnitude will be severe and irreparable. The electromagnetic interference will most likely eliminate our remaining global satellite communications and completely disable the current power grid infrastructure. Without a sustainable power source, our species will be forced back into the dark ages in the face of widespread climate change, unpredictable weather patterns, radiation damage and the possibility of a polar shift.”

  Taylor’s eyes flicked over his shoulder. He leaned forward, with a fevered look on his face and grabbed onto the end of the podium with both hands. His eyes were wide and frantic as he spoke.

  “We did what we could, Harley, but it’s not ready yet. We thought we had more time,” Taylor yelled as the two guards rushed the podium. He struggled against his captors and fought to finish his message. “They knew, Harley, and they mobilized! Icarus was the killshot!”

  The suits finally dragged Taylor down, there was a loud bang, and the screen went blank.

  Chapter 12

  The Loop

  “What the hell does he mean by killshot?” Mike sputtered. “There has to be a mistake. This doesn’t make any sense.”

  He had been repeating the same thing, since the video first aired. Mike was the poster-child for irony as he paced back and forth in front of the treadmills. Andy, on the other hand, had grown uncharacteristically silent. He stood with his back against the wall, staring down at the floor. He chewed his bottom lip and every few seconds he would shake his head, but he didn’t speak.

  Falisha wandered around the weight room, holding her cell phone up at weird angles, trying to get a signal. Zack decided it was best to distract himself with bicep curls, on the end of one of the benches.

  Everyone seemed lost, disconnected—waiting, but not knowing what for.

  The news report cut off seconds after Taylor’s outburst but had started over from the beginning less than ten seconds later. Again, and again it played. The frumpy middle-aged guy would say, seek shelter. Dr. Taylor said good luck with that, we are screwed. Tackle, loud bang, black screen.

  Zander said the video was on a loop, which was apparently not a good sign, as we had no idea how long it had already been playing. Either way, Taylor had said the storm would pass in twenty-four hours. As soon as it did, I was out of there. Beans was counting on me, and I was hell-bent on getting to him, though I still hadn’t figured out where he was.

  I knew the name of the family that had taken him in (because, duh, a foster family named Foster?) but had no idea where they lived. To
get that information, I would have to go to the social services office, which was two towns over in Sterling. I had no idea how I would get there, or if traveling would even be safe, but I would find a way. I had a promise to keep, and I couldn’t just sit there doing nothing.

  The stillness of the weight room was unsettling. It felt like the walls were closing in, and I could no longer think straight. I needed to move around to clear my head. As soon as I stood, I felt their eyes on me. I was sure they were awaiting instruction, or just looking for answers, but I had neither to offer, so I turned my back and closed my eyes, shutting everything out.

  I used to get this way before a big race. No matter how many times I won, I was on edge, until the very second my feet hit the starting blocks. I had a routine, a compulsive ritual really, that I used to perform before every race. It always used to help me harness that nervous energy, so I figured it was worth a shot.

  Focus.

  I shrugged my shoulders slowly until the tension built up in my neck and upper back, and then I let them drop. I did this again and again, until my muscles started to burn, then left them at my sides while I jumped up and down on the balls of my feet. I could feel my pulse picking up, enlivened by the sound of my own heartbeat echoing in my ears.

  Focus on the beat.

  Lub-dup…lub-dup…lub-dup.

  I centered my weight and straightened my spine as I rolled my head in slow, deliberate, circles. Anyone who hadn’t been staring at me before was definitely doing so now. I could feel the heat of the stares at my back. My dad had always said he thought I performed best under pressure. So, I slowly turned to face the group and hoped to hell he was right.

  “Hey, guys,” I said, and the room quieted. “I know things are kind of a mess right now, and we are all scared, and worried. I wish I had more answers for you, but I’m afraid we are at a disadvantage here. Jake and Zander are monitoring the computer and they will let us know if anything changes, but it’s going to be a bit of a waiting game from here on out.”