Annihilation (The Seamus Chronicles Book 1)

by McAdams, K. D.

  There is no way Mom was involved in this, is there? She hated election time because of all the signs, stupid ads and polling calls. How could she have worked for the government? It doesn’t make any sense.

  “We’re all exhausted and emotionally drained. This has been quite a day.” Mom is an accomplished business executive and she knows how to control a room. “Why don’t we all get a good night’s sleep? We can get all our questions out and answered tomorrow over brunch.”

  “Mom,” Liam pauses after he starts. “We’re not on vacation. I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, but I’d be willing to bet we can’t afford to wait until after brunch to get started.”

  Her veneer cracks and Mom gets up and leaves the room. On her way out, I can see a tear on her face. Through the door I hear a muffled cry and then she’s gone. Liam was not trying to be mean or hurt her. He’s right though. We don’t know if they have enough provisions for us here. We have no idea what the area is like and how we would defend it if we had to. It doesn’t seem like a good place for a permanent base; we should start looking for better places to settle down. Mom’s experience tells her this place is safe. Our experience tells us you need to always be prepared for the worst.

  I feel like I should get up and follow her. I’m a little surprised that Dad didn’t run after her. They were always a pretty tight team before this. I should probably take my cue from him, but then again I should be my own person. I look to Grace to see if she has any guidance, but she’s occupied with Remmie.

  Sofie stands slowly. “Thank you for dinner. These days food is becoming a precious commodity. Sharing some of yours with us means a lot. Can I help clean up in the kitchen?” She’s gracious and strong in the face of doubt and confusion. This is what makes a person wonderful.

  “You are very welcome. And please leave the cleanup to us. We are happy to do it.” Jane’s voice is measured and her eyes are searching. She wants to find a common ground, but where? “We’ve made up rooms. Cassandra will show you upstairs and get you settled.”

  Cassandra rises and Sofie turns to leave. As they reach the doorway, Jane speaks again. “It may not help, but we lost loved ones, too. My parents, my sister, my niece and nephew.” Her eyes are red and puffy; she is not the callous warmonger I projected onto her.

  “My dad,” Cassandra speaks and stares blankly at the floor. We’ve all experienced loss and it affects us in strange ways. My anger and hatred are fading, but trust is kept in reserve.

  “Goodnight,” Jane says quietly, and disappears into the kitchen.

  The rest of us follow Cassandra up to the second floor. There are five bedrooms and a big linen closet. One room each for Cassandra and Jane, and one for Mom and Dad, leaves two bedrooms. Liam takes the first empty one, and Grace puts her arm around Sofie and they walk into the next one with Remmie toddling behind. I’m okay crashing with Liam, but I want to see if Dad goes in to talk with Mom. Having them torn apart is not an option.

  As I lurk in the doorway, I hear him ask Cassandra, “Is it okay if I go downstairs and have a nightcap?” They’ll have to sort things out in their own time. They always do.

  Chapter 23

  When I arrived in the kitchen this morning, I was not surprised to find Grace and Sofie sitting at the table sipping coffee. They greeted me sweetly and then resumed their conversation about things to do in San Francisco. Clearly the two of them are refreshed and not the least bit concerned about the results of our impending conversation.

  Soon after I poured my coffee, Cassandra arrived in the kitchen. She was dressed for work, in high heels a knee-length skirt and a white silk blouse. I can’t help but smile and think that if you added glasses and a lab coat, she would be the proverbial “sexy scientist.” While I am able to keep the thought to myself, she does not share my smile or the positive energy in the room.

  “Oh. Good morning,” she says stiffly. “Coffee is typically reserved for the commute to Ames.”

  “If it’s out, I can make more.” Grace is standing and ready to walk over to the coffee maker.

  “No. It appears that there is plenty left.” Cassandra is filling her travel mug.

  “Are there other people down at this Ames place?” Sofie swirls the coffee in her mug.

  “My mother would like to be present for any conversations about Ames.” Cassandra’s face is blank and gives no hints to the answer.

  “Seriously?” Sofie places her cup on the table. “There are nine people left on the planet and you and your mom want to keep secrets?”

  “I did not achieve top0secret clearance at a NASA research center because I play fast and loose with information.” Cassandra is a little angry that we are questioning her. “You will get appropriate answers to all your questions when my mother is ready. She will be down shortly.”

  She turns to leave the room, but is interrupted with another question, this time from Grace. “So are you just going to go to work as usual?”

  “Right now I’m going to the dining room.” She is not up for conversation.

  “Seamus, I would say she seems like your type, if she wasn’t such a bitch.” Sofie is smiling and Grace giggles along with the joke.

  How did we arrive at this “us vs. them” mentality? We cannot afford to be fighting with anyone. So they worked for the government. It seems like something fishy has left us all as survivors. But we are survivors, and none of us can keep going on our own.

  Dad comes into the kitchen. He looks like hell. He probably wound up having more than one nightcap.

  “You guys wanna come into the dining room?” He’s a little hoarse, which fits how he looks. “Jane just got down and she’s ready to answer some questions.”

  We file into the dining room and Cassandra and her mom are sitting together on one side of the table. Mom is not in the room, and I have no idea how this is supposed to work. This is not a trial; we are not enemies.

  Jane breaks the ice. “Let me start with an apology. From the time that Cassandra was twelve, she has been a target.”

  Um, this is not how I expected things to go.

  “What kind of target?” Sofie is in hardball mode.

  “Mostly kidnapping, probably assassination.” Jane is very academic about her daughter’s life. “From what the FBI and CIA told us, the Chinese and the North Koreans believed that if they kidnapped her at a young enough age, they could brainwash her into working for them. There was also more than one global defense contractor who thought a boyfriend or girlfriend could get information out of her. It is amazing what adults will do to try and manipulate a 15-year-old girl.”

  “And you think Seamus and his family are okay, but not Remmie or me?” Sofie wants to get all the angles out on the table.

  Mom quietly slips into the room and stands at the end of the table. She has literally not chosen a side.

  “No.” Jane remains emotionless. “I want you to understand that old habits die hard. New people who are not expected to be somewhere have always put us on edge. Intellectually, we know that there is no way you are part of a grand scheme, but emotionally, we are still afraid.”

  “Well, there is no more CIA or FBI for you to check with.” Sofie is not as stoic as Ms. Crenshaw. “I thought that all of us survivors would pull together to get through this. If that’s not the case, someone should let me know now.”

  “Sofie. We’re with you 100 percent.” Grace is physically and emotionally behind her friend.

  “Paddrick made it quite clear last night that the Robinson family is a package deal that includes you and Remmie.” Jane does not seem to understand how to deal with other emotional people. “He explained the circumstances of your meeting and I have no reason to believe you are anything other than friendly.”

  “Well someday maybe I can say the same about you.” Sofie gets up and leaves the room quickly. Grace follows after her immediately.

  “Donna?” Dad is looking at Mom and waiting for her to speak. They did not sort things out last night. Her o
nly response is to sit carefully in the chair beside her.

  “I’m sorry if anyone is uncomfortable.” Jane is moving on to another agenda item. “I understand that your journey from New Hampshire was unpleasant. It is completely within reason to think that you need a day or two to adjust and settle in. Cassandra and I have been finding solace in continuing our work at Ames and we intend to maintain that practice.”

  “Hold on.” I am not being polite. “You work for the government and have admitted to talking with the CIA and the FBI. Is there anything we should know about this virus that seems to have killed the rest of the world?”

  “NASA, young man, is hardly the government.” She is condescending and slightly offended. “I spoke with the FBI and the CIA in my capacity as a parent and United States citizen, not as an employee of the space agency. To insinuate that I have more details about this horrible epidemic is insulting.”

  “Is there anyone else that you would not be surprised to see?” Dad is taking this down a more pertinent route.

  “Do you mean to ask if I am aware of other survivors?” A flash of emotion in her face hints at the answer, and we all notice her look towards Mom. “The answer is yes. There are others who seem to have survived.”

  “And are the other survivors also government employees?” Dad intentionally ties her back to the government.

  “They do work in facilities with ties to the Unites States government but I am not sure who provided funding for their paychecks.” Jane gives an honest but not enlightening answer.

  “Are you in contact with them? Are they coming here?” Dad is losing patience.

  “We are in contact with them and, while they would like to join us, they are not currently in transit.” She is not offering anything that was not asked.

  “You know this would go a lot smoother and I would be a lot more comfortable if you didn’t make us play fifty questions.” Dad is done messing around. “In fact, I know what will make it go even smoother. Us leaving. Thanks for the room and board, good luck surviving in your bubble.”

  “Wait,” Jane rises from the table in an overly controlled manner. “I would like it if you stayed.”

  “Don’t make me ask another question then.” Dad is not playing games.

  “There is a global community of scientists that have been receiving a ‘super vaccination’ for years.” Jane has walked over to stand behind Cassandra. “The vaccination was intended to protect against a wide range of potential pandemics. It was felt that if a large portion of the Earth’s population were destroyed, the scientific community would be best suited for rebuilding.”

  “Then how do you explain the seven of us?” I don’t feel like she’s being honest.

  “After Seamus finished eighth grade, the government approached me about having him participate in the vaccine program. I was able to negotiate the whole family into the program.” Mom is studying the wood of the tabletop.

  “Then how do you explain Remmie and Sofie?” I ask, focusing on Jane.

  “I don’t.” Jane looks around the room at each of us, seeming to linger on Mom. “Perhaps you have good genes? Sadly not all those vaccinated fared as well as Cassandra and me. Many of them are dead. Those who survived are staying connected with us through a secure and highly redundant version of the Internet. It includes radio towers and solar-powered relay stations. Even in the event that power is lost at the national level, we will be able to remain in contact.”

  “I can tell you that power is lost at the national level. It is a reality, not an eventuality.” Dad has no interest in helping her maintain a warped perception of our situation.

  “Well that explains some of the delays in communications.” Jane is processing something. “Perhaps we can discuss this further over dinner? Cassandra and I really should be getting down to Ames. There are simulations and experiments that need to be tended to and analyzed. Seamus, I think you should join us. You will no doubt find our work fascinating.”

  “I agree, Seamus, I think you should go with them. I’ve told them so much about your lab and your passion for physics. They would be happy to show you around.” Mom has not physically moved but she is on “their” side.

  The lights flicker, reminding us that we need to move forward, not sit idly.

  “I don’t think you three understand the situation we are in here.” Dad is flabbergasted. “There is no FBI, CIA or even NASA anymore. In fact, I would probably say that there is no East coast anymore. Everything from Chicago to Boston has been burned in the wildfire we survived. You don’t need to wait for orders from someone else. If you are not working to secure food, water and shelter for yourself, you are going to die.”

  “Well you can choose to live with that approach.” Jane is heading to the door. “I choose to live with the approach of ‘Keep Calm and Carry On.’ I have faith that our country will rebound from this disaster.”

  “Seamus, would it really hurt to see what they are working on for a day?” Mom is nearly pleading with me. “I’ll show everyone else around the Bay area. Dad can make lists and worry about the things that concern him, and tonight, if there are still questions, we can continue to talk openly.”

  I want to shake her and yell, “Mom, wake up, it’s me Seamus!” But I can’t move. Then it dawns on me; maybe she has a plan. Maybe she wants me to go along with things and figure out what they are up to. I’m not a good actor, so she won’t let me in on the plan, but she needs me involved because of something advanced they are working on.

  “How about we head down to this Ames place and you guys come meet us for lunch?” I want to be involved but I’m scared about spending the day alone with these two. “That way they’ll have some time to show me around without being interrupted and maybe I’ll find some place to set up my lab.”

  “That would allow all of you to get a vaccine booster, too.” Cassandra has not lost the fact that there are some of us who are still “at risk.”

  “How often do we need to get these vaccine boosters?” I had almost forgotten about them.

  “Boosters are given quarterly,” Jane says, as if there are no options to stray from the schedule, even though we are totally off schedule already. Then, without further words, she rises from her chair and leaves the room.

  Dad looks at me and I can’t tell if he understands that I want to trust Mom on this. We have been communicating so well lately that I don’t want this to cause a breakdown between us.

  “Whatever you want to do.” He is shaking his head. “We’ll see you in a few hours,” he says, and leaves the room.

  Chapter 24

  I am in the backseat of a silver E-Class Mercedes. We’re crawling along at 65 miles an hour and I wonder what I’ve gotten myself into. Dad always used to say that a black Mercedes S 500 whispered elegance. It’s a true luxury car without the hey look at me nature of a Bentley or a Rolls Royce. He also liked the sportiness available in the C-Class Mercedes, but he was not a fan of the E-Class. “A vehicle for pretenders,” he calls it.

  These two pretenders might be robots. They sit in their front seats staring straight ahead. Classical music is on the radio but at a maddeningly low volume. I know it’s there, I can hear it, but not well enough to make out what it is. If this didn’t seem so routine for them and so in-line with the personalities I’ve seen, I would think they are messing with me. I suppose they could be messengers bringing me to me Ames where scientists will poke, prod and dissect me to figure out why I didn’t die from the “killer cold.” But no, they wouldn’t have waited for me. They would have taken Mom already.

  I might as well try and liven things up.

  “So what are you two ladies working on?” I’m light and bubbly in a way that is not characteristic.

  “We’re studying the energy transfer from light particles as they collide with a variety of newly formed materials.” Cassandra has her answer well-rehearsed. I’m not sure if this is a benefit or a curse of working in a university setting.

  The first thi
ng that comes to my mind is the paper on the solar sail that I read back home before the pandemic wiped out the planet. Much like a regular sail transfers the energy from the wind as it collides with the cloth, there will need to be a substance to allow the transfer of energy from light. While I did not see the Crenshaw name in the paper, I suspect that this is what they are working on. My new self sees value in the deception of having your research published by another. This unrelated person happily takes credit for your work. If it is disproved, they also take the fall—not only on this topic, but their credibility as a whole. If they are not disproved, you can capitalize on your head start by implementing the technology while others are trying to disprove it.

  “Cool, like for a new kind of solar panel?” I’m going to play dumb. They are keeping things from me; I need to keep some things from them.

  They both fall for my act. They exchange a glance with smiles and the slightest of head shakes indicating to each other that I must not “get it.” It may turn out to be easier to manipulate these two than I had thought. I guess that manipulating smart people, whether their intelligence is real or perceived, is easier than manipulating people of average intelligence. They think that they are so smart that no one will out-think them. People of average intelligence are wary of being duped and keep their minds on reality, not the perception.

  “Not really. It’s some pretty advanced stuff.” Jane is back to focusing on the road, seemingly very proud of herself. “But your mom did mention that you had been working on some kind of power pack. Are you interested in solar power?”

  Now she is trying to manipulate me. I’m not used to these mind games; do I let her think she’s manipulating me so that I can continue to manipulate her? Or do I call her out now and tell her she shouldn’t be so obvious?

  “Not really solar, but definitely using energy particles to generate electricity.” My answer is honest and kind of vague. I’m going to keep up with the charade.