by Jay Falconer
“How’d you get this?” Kleezebee asked.
“Drew and I were on scene when that first blast of light hit the Student Union.”
“Why were you there at that time of night?”
“We were meeting Abby and her roommate at the theatre for the midnight movie. It was a double date of sorts.”
Kleezebee sighed. “Were they already there?”
“Yes. She was on the steps with her roommate when the flash appeared. They’re both dead,” Lucas said, lowering his head in shame. He waited for a reprimand that never came.
Kleezebee did not respond. He just stared at the floor.
“Somebody should call Abby’s parents,” Lucas said.
“She doesn’t have any. They’re both dead,” Drew replied.
“So I take it, one of you brought the video camera to the scene?”
“No, sir. I found it there, on a step. It belonged to one of the people waiting in line. They were using it when the light exploded the . . . place.”
“What happened next?”
“I recorded the scene. Here’s what I shot,” Lucas said, clicking the PLAY button on his laptop’s screen. “Notice the lack of rubble and the bloodless body fragments? Clearly, this was not an explosion. Despite what the police think, I doubt a terrorist cell could have caused this type of destruction.”
Kleezebee gasped and then turned away when the close-up shot of Jasmine’s severed torso appeared on the screen. “Okay, enough. I get the picture.”
Lucas queued up the Channel 9 news video before asking Kleezebee, “Did you hear about the energy field that leveled the mall this morning?”
Kleezebee nodded.
Lucas played the video footage. “This was shot from one of Channel 9’s news helicopters. Notice the dome’s transparent crown, which lets us see what’s happening inside. It might also be a possible weakness, which could be exploited. Inside, you can see that matter is stripped from the Earth, and then it gets twisted and compacted before being sucked through the vortex.” He stopped the playback just before the grand finale.
“Did you notice any change in air pressure following the event?” Kleezebee asked.
“As a matter of fact, I did, both times. It was more pronounced after the second one. It felt like I was being pulled toward the energy field, not pushed.”
Kleezebee smirked, as if he’d expected that answer.
“There’s something else you might find interesting,” Lucas said, replaying the last few seconds of the video. He froze the recording just after the camera zoomed in and revealed the pyramid-shaped heap of tissue and bones. “The energy field leaves behind some form of bio-excretion when it dissipates.”
Lucas double-clicked his laptop mouse to replay the video file containing the theatre’s flash event. He fast-forwarded to the very end, and then paused the recording on a scene showing the black powder sitting inside the crater. “Drew, can we have the sample, please.”
Drew opened his backpack and handed Kleezebee the plastic container of black powder.
“We found this black residue inside the reactor core, after the E-121 vanished,” Lucas said.
“Did you have it analyzed?” Kleezebee asked.
“Yes, by Griffith’s mass spectrometer—you know, that weird guy across the hall?” Drew replied. “But the results were inconclusive. It didn’t detect any chemical or organic compounds. It’s as if it doesn’t even exist.”
Kleezebee held up the container and shook it before his eyes; much like Drew did earlier in the lab.
“We also found the same substance inside the theatre’s crater, and it was all over the mall today after the energy field disappeared,” Lucas said.
Kleezebee opened the container and smelled the residue, before rubbing some of it between his fingers. “It certainly appears the E-121 disappearance is somehow linked to the two incidents on campus. Wouldn’t you agree?” he asked Lucas.
“Yeah, it does. Have you ever seen a substance like this before, Professor?”
“Once, a long time ago, when I was not much older than you are now. We never were able to identify it,” Kleezebee replied, closing the lid to the container. “I’d like to run this by an old friend at the FBI. Substance identification has come a long way in the past fifty years and maybe he might be able to tell us what it is.”
“His name wouldn’t happen to be Mulder, would it?” Lucas asked, hoping to lessen the tension.
The look on Kleezebee’s face indicated he was not amused by the Hollywood reference.
“There’s one more thing you should know,” Drew said. “Right before the E-121 vanished in the reactor’s core, there was a massive power surge.”
“How massive?”
“Hard to say. It was off the chart.”
“Give me an estimate.”
“Based on the power acceleration curve, and factoring in the composition and density of the E-121 and its receptacle, I’d say at least six times 1031 terajoules.”
“That’s over a trillion times more energy than our sun releases in an hour. How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. But that’s what the data indicates.”
“What was the source of the spike?”
Drew shrugged. “We have no idea.”
“Was it from some type of cascading reaction?”
“We don’t think so,” Lucas answered. “We reviewed all the data, but found nothing to suggest that. I just don’t see how our experiment could have generated that level of energy.”
“You do realize that I can’t cover this up. We’ll have to report this to the Advisory Committee and to the authorities. Larson is going to want your heads on a silver platter, and I don’t think I can protect you from that festering pustule of a man.”
“We understand, sir,” Lucas replied in a solemn voice.
“I need you to put together a copy of all the evidence and get it to me ASAP. I want to review it with my colleagues on the committee and get everyone’s input.”
Lucas retrieved the thumb drive from his pocket and handed it to Kleezebee. “It’s all on here, Professor, including the data logs.” He was hopeful that the committee’s senior professors would be able to assist. Two of them were Nobel Laureates who had won the Nobel Prize for Physics a few months earlier.
Just before he walked out the door, Kleezebee turned and said, “Let’s meet tomorrow at nine a.m. in your lab. We can sit down and go through all the data together.”
“How are we supposed to get past the roadblocks? The military’s never going to let us through,” Lucas said.
“I’ll figure something out and let you know in the morning.”
Chapter 12
Monday, December 24
6:33 AM
Lucas was sleeping across the bedroom from his brother when the wall phone rang, waking him up from a deep sleep. He heard Drew rustling around in his bed a few feet away.
“Who the hell is calling us this early?” Lucas asked in a rusty voice. “It better not be another one of those damn political polls.”
He stumbled in the dark to the main room and lifted the phone’s receiver. He intended to be rude to the caller, but changed his mind at the last second. “Lucas speaking.”
“Hey, it’s DL. I don’t have time to explain, but the meeting’s been changed to seven a.m. I’ve already sent a car to get you. It’ll be there shortly. Make sure you bring Trevor along. Understood?”
“Got it, sir, see you then,” Lucas replied, before hearing Kleezebee hang up. He did the same and walked to the refrigerator, which was just outside the door to their bedroom.
He shouted, “Drew, get your ass up. Kleezebee’s changed the meeting to seven o’clock.”
He picked up the broom next to the fridge, walked to the center of the main room, rammed it into the ceiling three times to call Trevor. He put the broom away, opened the fridge, and grabbed a can of grape soda sitting on the top shelf. He tapped the top of the can with his finger five times, before pop
ping the tab. Three gulps later, the can was empty.
“Nectar of the gods,” he said after letting out a thunderous belch that rattled his throat.
“Nice one,” Drew said, cruising into the room. “Do you know why they changed the meeting?”
“Nope, not a clue,” Lucas said, tossing the aluminum can in the recycle bin. “Where’s that notebook?”
“It’s on the desk, right where you left it last night.”
Lucas slid the red and blue spiral notebook into Drew’s backpack and began to wonder what might explain the sudden change in Kleezebee’s plan. He half expected the police to come crashing through the door and arrest him for mass murder. Then he shook his head and told himself he was overreacting. Kleezebee probably had other things to do today and simply moved the meeting up two hours to accommodate his schedule.
Lucas quickly dressed and sat down on the couch to wait for his brother. He powered on the TV and changed the channel to one of the network news stations. There was an African-American female correspondent standing in a crowded parking lot filled with emergency vehicles. Superimposed across the bottom of the screen was the phrase NORTH HANOVER, NJ LEVELED. MCGUIRE AFB SPARED.
The broadcast switched to an overhead feed from a helicopter, which showed a familiar-looking groove of black destruction several blocks long that cut through the heart of the city.
“Ah, shit,” Lucas said, watching a group of firefighters wandering around the scene. “Hey Drew, looks like there was another energy dome reported.”
“In Tucson?”
“No, someplace in New Jersey, thank God.”
Drew came cruising into the main room. His right wheel slammed into the side of the couch next to Lucas. “Was anyone hurt?”
“Looks like it. The dome took out a small town.”
“Did you see any black residue?”
“Oh, yeah, it’s there.”
“I wonder why it moved to New Jersey?”
“Who knows, I’m just glad it’s not here,” Lucas answered. “You ready to go?”
Drew nodded, right before Trevor knocked on the door. The three of them went down to the first floor to wait for Kleezebee’s driver. They were just outside the main entrance, next to the manager’s office, when a four-door sedan picked them up for their ten-minute commute to the science lab.
They traveled south toward the cordoned off university and used the driver’s credentials to pass through the north checkpoint. Military troops had set up roadblocks and checkpoints to limit access to campus while forensic investigations continued. The driver pulled up to the front of the science lab to drop them off. Inside, they met up with Bruno, who was guarding the security entrance along with two of his staff.
“Dr. Lucas, I’m to escort you to NASA’s security station. There are several people waiting for you. DL said he’ll meet you there.”
Lucas had never been within fifty yards of NASA’s section of the building. He had often wondered what stealthy projects were underway, but never dreamed he would actually have the opportunity to walk the halls of the top-secret wing. Despite his exhilaration, he forced himself to remain calm. The meeting’s new location meant the situation had escalated, and he had better be prepared. NASA would never have granted them access unless the circumstances left them with no other choice.
They made their way past their own lab and continued on to NASA’s checkpoint. Bruno shook each of their hands and said, “Good luck today. I need to return to my station before my guys run amuck. Hopefully, DL will allow me to send them home soon.”
After Bruno left, a two-man crew of armed MPs frisked Lucas, and then they searched Trevor and Drew, before instructing the scientists to go through the scanning equipment. Lucas walked through first, holding his breath. He hated these things; always feeling like his organs were being irradiated. No alarms sounded and he was cleared for entry. A guard handed him a NASA visitor’s badge, which he clipped to his shirt pocket.
Trevor picked up Drew and carried him through the two screening devices. Once again, the security devices remained silent. Trevor put Drew back in his chair and the guards handed them visitor badges to wear as well.
They were escorted through two connecting hallways before stopping in front of a metal-grated freight elevator. Lucas knew there was only one reason for the single-story building to have an elevator. They were about to travel underground. He boarded the lift and stood with the small of his back pressing up against the rear handrail. Lucas could smell the lingering odor of a cigar; Kleezebee must have ridden the elevator recently.
One of the four guards pressed the control panel’s bottom-most button illuminating the number 20. As the lift descended, Lucas thought about NASA’s lengthy ten-year construction period. There was plenty of gossip floating around campus, but nobody seemed to know the reason it took so long. Now he knew: Building a secret, twenty-story subterranean bunker directly under campus was an impressive feat. It also corroborated the rumor that secret, underground tests were being run, which had shaken their lab like a bartender finishing a James Bond martini. He wondered if Kleezebee had known what was happening right under their feet, possibly damaging the science lab’s foundation and putting all their lives in jeopardy.
Lucas felt a body-wide flush when they stepped off the elevator on the 20th floor, and were greeted by Mary Stinger, Kleezebee’s executive assistant. She had the starring role in many of his sexual fantasies.
She smiled. “Hello, Dr. Ramsay. I’m to escort all three of you to the conference room, which is at the far end of this floor. Please follow me.” She held out her hands in the MPs’ direction. “I’ve got it from here, boys. You may return to the surface.”
Lucas kept a close eye on Mary as she started to walk down the hallway. She was wearing a skin-tight skirt that barely covered her ass. He wondered how she could sit down without exposing a birds-eye view of her panties, assuming she was wearing any. She swayed her hips with purpose, walking with a distinct bounce in her step, as if she were strutting down the runway at some New York fashion show. He listened to the rhythmic clatter of her six-inch heels smacking the cement floor, which, when combined with the metronome-like stride of her tan legs, was almost hypnotizing. He would gladly follow her anywhere.
* * *
Drew waited for his brother to step in front of him to follow behind Mary, knowing that Lucas would appreciate the priority view of her figure. When he looked back at the MPs waiting inside the elevator for the doors to close, he realized his earlier headcount was off by one. He must have been too preoccupied with other matters to make such a simple mistake. He vowed to better his concentration.
Drew memorized everything he observed along the way to the conference room. He tried to peek inside the various labs they passed, but failed because most of their doors were closed. Fortunately, on two occasions, he was able to see inside a room before the door closed behind an entering scientist.
He saw an elderly woman seated behind a desk inside the first room. She was stirring the contents of a black coffee mug while leaning forward with her face unusually close to the computer screen. A pair of glasses hung on a chain in front of her chest. A row of five-drawer filing cabinets stood watch behind her, and there were hundreds of shoebox-sized boxes stacked up all around the room. Each brown box had a red, white, and blue priority mail sticker on the side.
The second room featured two heavyset men, maybe Native Americans, judging by their long black hair and dark skin. They were standing in front of a transparent grease board, scribbling equations in red-and-blue marker ink. The board was a good foot taller than they were, and framed in wood with a set of casters for mobility. Drew could only see a portion of their work, but recognized it. They were attempting to control virtual protons in a quantized field, not an easy feat. If he were not expected elsewhere, he would have stopped to lend a hand.
An overabundance of Marine personnel were roaming the halls. Drew had not expected such a strong military presence inside a
scientific facility. Granted the military and NASA were both funded by the Congress and NASA was nominally a defense agency, it still seemed odd that there appeared to be more soldiers than scientists.
Drew kept track of their location as they moved deeper into the facility. He calculated where they were in relation to their own lab on the ground floor each time they rounded another corner. He also thought it prudent to memorize the path back to the elevator. It might just come in handy.
* * *
They arrived at their meeting room five minutes later. Lucas saw a seating area just to the left of the conference room’s double doors, with eight fabric-covered chairs and a glass coffee table sitting between them. Two stacks of magazines were lying on the table.
“Go ahead and take a seat over there. They’ll call for you when they’re ready,” Mary said, pointing to the chairs in the waiting area.
Mary was wearing an official NASA Photo ID badge, meaning she was not simply a visitor. She had been granted specific security clearance, and by extension, Kleezebee must possess it as well. Obviously, there was a lot Lucas didn’t know.
“Who are we meeting with?” he asked her.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you that. But I can tell you that they’ve been in there for well over an hour and should be ready for you soon.”
As with every male since the dawn of humanity, Lucas had been preconditioned to appreciate a beautiful woman’s appearance. Her silky, orange blouse was unbuttoned deep below her neckline to expose a sizable portion of her upper breasts. He snuck several peeks, trying not to appear obvious, but it was difficult not to stare. Her cleavage was not only magnificent, but it acted like a magnet for his eyes. It was apparent that Mary had chosen her ensemble carefully to maximize her appeal. If Lucas had been a professor, he would have given her an A+ for presentation.
The three scientists followed Mary’s instructions and found seats in the waiting area along the wall to the left of the conference room. Lucas and Drew were next to each other with Trevor on Lucas’ left. Mary was seated in the chair directly across from Lucas with her legs crossed lady-like. He was hoping to get lucky and catch that birds-eye view. He did. They were sheer pink with lace seams.