“Well, as a matter of fact, we’ve hadn’t had any passing in a couple of days. Been weird, you know?”
“That’s what I heard. Can you tell me how many hospitals are in the Davenport area?”
“Let’s see, we have two, and Trinity has three. And there’s a hospital for special types of surgery, like joint replacements.”
“Have you heard of any deaths at those facilities?”
“You know, a couple of hours ago, I was talking to my counterpart in our place in Silvis, and she said they’d hadn’t had any either.”
“Silvis, that’s in Illinois, right?
“Yeah, Illinois.”
“How far is that from the Davenport?”
“I’d say it’s about fifteen to twenty miles.”
“Thanks, you’ve been helpful.”
Jack got back on Route 61 and headed toward Keokuk. Mind reeling, he tried to keep things in context while exploring a connection between the meteorite and the sudden pause in people dying. It had to be a coincidence, he realized, and started to frame out the article he would write on the asteroid-meteorite that he’d originally set out to do.
During a rest stop, Jack pulled his cell out to check his emails, and the screen defaulted to the Google Map overview of his trip. The pinpoints of the cities and towns along the path popped off the screen, poking him. Jack scrolled through his calls and hit the redial button.
“Professor Stringer? It’s Jack, from the Iowan. Can you tell me what route was taken when you moved the asteroid from Keokuk to Davenport?”
“Sure. A couple of students and I took Route 61. It’s the most direct. Jack, please remember, it’s a meteorite for your piece, otherwise anyone who took a class in astronomy wouldn’t take it seriously.”
Jack thanked the professor and looked at some of the larger towns: Muscatine, Fort Madison, Wapello, and Roseville. Walking back to his car, Jack decided he couldn’t drive and call all the hospitals servicing the towns along the route and settled on another plan.
He sat in his car and began checking the obituary webpages of the various newspapers covering the Davenport area. First one he checked was the Quad-City Times, covering areas in both Iowa and the bordering cities in Illinois. He slowly scrolled the page, squeezing the data out like a poker player. There were no obituaries. Jack let his breath out and looked out the windshield. Could it be no one has realized what’s happening but me?
Jack checked the website for the Dispatch, which had recorded a death from an auto accident. Jack hit the steering wheel with his palm. Well, it was a crazy idea, he thought. He turned the ignition on and was about to pocket his cell when he thought, Why not check out one more?
He checked the Star Courier, which had plenty of ads for funeral homes on its obituary page, but no new obituaries. Jack then went to a couple of the weekly papers like the North Scott Press, the Erie Review, and the Aledo Times Record. All of their obituary pages were filled with deaths, but they’d all occurred before the meteorite crashed into Keokuk.
Jack gripped the wheel to steady his hands. After quieting a stream of thoughts, Jack Googled the Chicago Tribune and was greeting with over fifty new obituaries. He stared at the results before getting back on the highway.
Jack pushed the speed limit as he began composing an article in his head.
Chapter Three
Up late researching and writing, Jack missed his nightly run and took a jog in the morning, arriving late for work.
“Hey, Jack, Bud wants to see you.”
“Okay, Sue, let me get settled.”
“Said to get you right away, as soon as you got in.” She wagged her finger. “Has Jack been a bad boy?”
Jack slid through a partially open door.
“Mr. Riley? Susan said you were looking for me.”
His boss slapped down the Iowan’s morning edition and flipped it to Jack’s article.
“You crazy or something, kid? I told you I didn’t want any UFO nonsense.”
“Uh, it’s got nothing to do with UFOs, Mr. Ril—”
“You’re a big city boy, Jack.”
Jack thought—I’m from Providence, that qualifies as a big city?—as his boss continued.
“Out here in Iowa, we’re a sensible lot of folk. We’re a God-fearing community who don’t latch onto a, a, what do you call it, a phenomenon. I mean, just look at this headline.” Riley pointed to ‘Asteroid or Meteorite? Miracle Rock or Hunk of Space Debris?’
“I wanted to catch people’s attention. But the article doesn’t speculate on—”
“Not speculating? Did you forget what you wrote?” Riley picked up the paper. “Here, second paragraph, ‘Almost simultaneously with the arrival of the meteorite there been a pause in natural deaths in Keokuk and its surrounding areas. Is there something larger happening or just a coincidence?’ And here toward the end, ‘Did the craggy-faced, ominously colored boulder fall out of the sky, or was it directed by something other than gravity?’”
“Just trying to engage the reader, Mr. Riley.”
“Look, kid, you had a lot of good information in the article. I’m all for reader engagement, but I have to tell you, if I’d seen it before it went to press, it would’ve looked a lot different.” He pounded a finger into the desktop. “This is not the National Enquirer. Understand?”
Jack suppressed a smile and nodded.
“Now keep that in mind and start on a follow-up, but you have to run it by me first. Got that?”
Jack smelled Laura before she got to his desk and thought if there was a scent dictionary, her picture would be next to the word springtime.
“Susan said you were in some trouble with the boss. Everything okay?”
Jack smiled. “Sure, everything’s fine. Riley’s just an old-school newsman. What he calls speculation, I call investigation. You see the article?”
“Of course, first thing I read this morning. It’s fantastic.”
“Don’t get carried away now.”
“No, really Jack. It’s something you should be proud of. It makes the reader think.”
Jack leaned over and lowered his voice. “Well, it certainly looks like there’s plenty to think about.”
“Jack, your brown eyes really light up when you’re excited. Tell me, what’s going on?”
“I’ve been a bit anal. You know how I can get. I’ve been checking with hospitals and funeral parlors. There’s been a few deaths, but they’re all from nasty accidents or violence. Natural deaths or death from sicknesses has somehow stopped. I just don’t get why no one sees the pattern here.”
“Maybe because some are dying from accidents?”
“Maybe. I could use some help as I’m putting together a follow-up for the next edition.”
“I’d love to help. It sounds like fun.”
Jack obsessively called the area hospitals and funeral homes just about every hour as he tapped away at his keyboard. When he finished the piece, he printed a copy. Jack read it slowly, and as he marked it up he caught a scent of Laura.
“What’ve you got for me?”
“I checked Chicago, L.A., New York, Houston.” She glanced at her notes. “Miami, Tampa, St. Louis, Vegas, San Fran, and Seattle. Everything seems normal.”
“Did you compare rates of death from last month?”
“There’s some variance. In some cities there are fewer dying, but in more cities than not, there are actually more deaths than average.”
“Well, with Chicago and all the murders in the mix, it’s not surprising.”
Laura put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “What’s all of this mean, Jack? What do you think is going on?”
***
Jack marched into Riley’s office, and as his boss picked his head up, Jack held his new article out. Riley took it and sighed at the headline.
“A bit dramatic, isn’t it? ‘Meteorite Hits Pause Button on Death.’”
Riley nodded toward a chair, and Jack took a seat.
“Let’s call it catc
hy.”
Riley breezed through the article and set it down. He held Jack’s gaze and then beckoned with his hand. “Facts. I need facts, and they’ve got to be on the money, Jack.”
Jack leaned toward the desk. “Ever since the meteorite hit in Keokuk, no one has died. That’s five days ago. Best estimate is the radius of the death-free zone is fifteen to twenty miles of wherever the meteorite has been.”
Riley slammed a palm on his desk. “Outright speculation!”
“Please hold on, Mr. Riley. It hit right here in Keokuk, and fact is, no one’s died here or in its radius. That’s public knowledge that anyone can check. Yeah, it could have been a coincidence, but the meteor was moved to Davenport, and guess what? Not only has natural death stopped in Davenport and the fifteen or so miles around it, but also along the route the meteor was driven.”
“This sounds like science fiction.”
“I know it sounds offbeat—”
“Offbeat? It’s crazy. We print this, and they’ll think I’ve lost my mind.”
“Please, Mr. Riley, we’ve got to go with it. This could be a huge story.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Look, let’s go line by line, and you show me where I’m off base or not supported by facts, and we’ll cut it.”
Riley let the article go to press with only minor editing. Jack held fast on the title, but allowed a question mark to be added.
‘Meteorite Hits Pause Button on Death?’ was relegated to the third page, but that didn’t stop it from attracting the attention of Manny Alexander.
Chapter Four
“Is this Jack?”
“Yes.”
“Hi, this is Manny Alexander, of the Associated Press.”
Associated Press? Jack jumped out of his chair.
“Yeah, the AP. Say, did you write that piece on the meteor alone?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Heck’uva piece, Jack.”
“Thanks.”
“Well, we’d really like to run it. In syndication, that is.”
“Syn, syndication?”
“Yes, sir. Of course, you’ll be compensated, according to the circulation formulas and all.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything but yes.”
“Sure.”
“I’ll send over the releases you’ll need to sign before we can run with it. If you don’t mind, can you do it pronto? I’d really like to get this out ASAP.”
“No problem.”
“Great, and Jack, if you got any more of this, we’d really like to work with you on it.”
Jack gave him his contact information and called Laurie and his grandmother with the surprising news.
The AP’s run of Jack’s article was carried by many of the Midwestern newspapers, including majors like the Chicago Tribune, the Chicago Sun-Times, the Detroit Free Press, and the Star Tribune out of Minneapolis.
One of the readers of the Tribune was on the board of Adler Planetarium, America’s oldest planetarium. The board member saw the opportunity to drive attendance through the roof and raise donations if they could exhibit the meteorite in Chicago. He received permission from the board, quickly struck a deal to share some of the revenue with St. Ambrose University, and arranged to transport the meteorite from Davenport to the Windy City.
Professor Stringer was annoyed when he learned he would be losing the ability to study the mass and called Jack.
“Jack, did you hear?”
“What’s going on?”
“The big shots up at Adler made a deal to take the meteor from me.”
“Adler? What’s that?”
“An old planetarium in Chicago. Nothing against them. They do a great job educating the public with their exhibits, but this smells. St. Ambrose is giving them the meteor in exchange for a cut of the attendance. They didn’t even tell me.”
“But you’re the head of the department, how could they–”
“Said most of the money we receive from the deal was going to go into our building. The bean counters didn’t think I’d mind. Geez, I’m a damn scientist, I don’t give a hoot about money!”
“When’s this going to happen?”
“I understand a darn truck is on the way already.”
Jack hurried the professor off the phone and headed for Riley’s office.
“Boss, I’m heading up to Chicago.”
“Chicago? That’s a bit out of our territory.”
“They’re moving the meteor. I gotta follow this.”
“Hold on, Jack, calm down. Who’s moving what?
“A planetarium in Chicago.”
“Adler?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. Anyway, Adler struck a deal with St. Ambrose. They’d get the meteor to display and would share some of the admission money with the university.”
“And why’s this the Iowan’s business?”
“Oh, come on, Mr. Riley. Can’t you see? If this is something big. If this thing has some miracle buried in it, we’d be the ones who discovered it!”
Riley pushed back in his chair. “Sit down, Jack.”
“I can’t. I gotta go.”
Riley pointed at Jack and then at a chair, prompting Jack to collapse into a seat.
“Look, Jack, let’s take a moment to come back to earth, okay? Before I let you run up to Chicago I want to know what the plan is, what’s the angle?”
“That’s the thing, Mr. Riley. I’m not sure where this is going. I wanna see if the meteor has the same effect as it did here. If it does, we got the biggest story since Jesus’s resurrection.”
Riley frowned.
“And if it turns out, like I suspect, that it’s just another chunk of rock from space, what then?”
“I’ll write a story about the Keokuk meteor that was so popular it was on exhibit in Chicago, et cetera, et cetera.”
“You got it all figured out, kid, don’t you?”
Jack shrugged.
Riley said, “What are you waiting for? Chicago’s over four hours away.”
Jack bolted upright and headed out the door, saying, “Thanks, Mr. Riley, you won’t regret it, I promise.”
***
“Laura, the meteor’s being moved. I’m heading to Chicago.”
“Moved? Why?”
“It’s going on exhibit at Adler Planetarium, and I’m going.”
“Can I come with you?”
“I’d love to have you, you know that. Just, you know, Riley gave me a really hard time, and besides, I need you to do a couple of things for me.”
Laura frowned.
“Look, what I need you to do is really important, in fact critical if we’re going to get the jump on the story before the big boys do.”
Laura’s pout disappeared as Jack explained.
“Stay in touch with Professor Stringer. We’ve got to get the exact time the meteor’s leaving Davenport. Call me when you know.”
“Sure.”
“Now comes the critical part. The only sensible route into Chicago is to take Route 80 into 88. You’ve got to keep checking with the towns, not all of them, just the larger ones, along the way to Chicago. See if the phenomenon happens there, too.”
“Jack, I’ve got an idea. Why not just focus on the first fifty miles or so? It’ll be easier, and we’d find out sooner if it was happening again.”
Jack grabbed her head and planted a big kiss on her lips.
***
Jack had gone directly to Adler Planetarium, which sat on the edge of Lake Michigan, to explain who he was. The planetarium was willing to cooperate with him to promote the exhibit and provided a look at a small room where the meteorite would be displayed. After promising to return when the meteorite arrived, Jack stepped out of the large, domed building onto a porch above its broad staircase.
Scanning the backdrop of skyscrapers, it hit Jack that Adler was smack in the middle of America’s third largest city. Chicago had to be at least four time
s bigger than Boston, where he was born. The wind was blowing as he took a series of deep breaths. It didn’t get more big time than this, he thought.
The meteorite was late due to Chicago’s legendary traffic and was to arrive within the hour. Jack scooted down the stairs, walking a hundred yards to a park bench overlooking a choppy Lake Michigan. He pecked at his cell before sitting.
“What d’ya got for me?”
“Uh, nothing yet.”
Jack jumped up.
“What do you mean, nothing? Come on, Laura, we’re gonna lose our edge.”
“I’m trying, Jack. What do you think I’m doing, my nails?”
“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just that when it gets here and everyone realizes what’s going on we’re gonna get lost in the pack. This is my story. I don’t want to, I just can’t, lose it. You understand?”
“Jack, I know it means a lot to you. I’m calling everybody, like crazy.”
Jack began pacing.
“I know. I just—hey, wait a sec. Pull up a map of the Davenport area, okay?”
“Why?”
“Just listen to me. Now expand the radius, say twenty miles. What towns lie outside the radius but are closest to Davenport?”
“Well, Geneseo is the closest, then Annawan, and further out, Sheffield.”
“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do. You take Geneseo, and I’ll take Annawan. Call any funeral parlors, the hospitals in the area, and the coroner’s office. Got it?”
“I’m not a child, for goodness sakes!”
“Sorry. I’m being a jerk. I hope you can forgive me.”
“I’ll think about it, but it’s going to be expensive.”
“Seriously?”
“Jack, take a pill and calm down, will you? I’m kidding.”
“I just don’t want this story to get between us. That’s all.”
“That’s entirely up to you, Mr. Amato.”
“Don’t worry, Laura. Now, can we make our calls? I’ll give you forty-five minutes, but that’s it, then call me.”
Chapter Five
Jack was on the phone with the Grant-Johnson Funeral Home when the white box van carrying the meteorite pulled up to Adler’s service entrance. He pushed the disconnect button and dialed Laura.
The Final Enemy Page 2