Frozen Fire

by Evans, Bill; Jameson, Marianna

  When the last one had fired and its shrapnel had been lost from view, the commander turned back to look at Sam. “Not bad figuring for a landlubber.”

  Sam’s smile was a bit shaky, but broad and genuine. “Thank you, sir.”

  “What now? How long before we know anything?”

  “At least an hour, sir. Probably a lot longer. Even with the diminished rate of methane coming up through the water column and the dispersal of millions of microbes, it’s going to take a while before the atmospheric readings start showing any changes.”

  The commander nodded and then left the room, as if his presence had been just a routine visit. Sam, on the other hand, couldn’t have stood up if he’d wanted to. His kneecaps were shaking like they had a mind of their own, and his heart was fit to give out.

  He slumped back in his chair and closed his eyes. And hoped like hell that this madness worked.

  11:15 A.M., Monday, October 27, Taino

  “What the hell is that?” Dennis demanded, looking, as Victoria was, at the slim lines of white smoke streaking across his sky.

  “The Americans devised a plan to close the rupture on the seafloor and launch missiles into the methane plume.”

  “How dare they—Who gave them permission—”

  “I did,” Victoria said bluntly, so bluntly that he swung his head to look at her, his eyes full of outrage.

  “You had no right—”

  “Yes I did. Somebody had to fix what you did.”

  “What I—”

  “Shut up, Dennis,” she snapped and spun away from him. She wasn’t a violent person, but she knew if she remained within reach of him, she’d end up slugging him. And she’d enjoy it.

  Victoria stalked a few yards away and then turned back to face him. “Your precious dennisium made the methane dense. It’s changing into phyrruluxine, Dennis. It’s turned into a murderous cloud of gas that’s killing people and animals everywhere it goes. Those missiles are full of microbes that eat methane.”

  “That’s insane. They have no right to do that to the atmosphere,” he shouted.

  “Whether that’s insane remains to be seen. And you had no right to do what you did, either.”

  “Victoria, how can you say that? You were part of—”

  “Yes, I was, Dennis. I fell for your very convincing madness. And I’m going to be paying for it for a long time,” she muttered. “Now stand up. Are those tanks full? You’ll need full ones. We’re going back to the boat. We can continue talking there.”

  “What boat? I’m not going anywhere,” he snarled. “And you shouldn’t be here, you disloyal bitch. I know it was Micki who sold me out, but apparently you have, too. You go back to the Americans and tell Winslow Benson he can shove those missiles up his presidential ass. This is my island and that’s my sky. And I’m going to fix what I started.”

  “You can’t fix anything, Dennis,” Victoria said tiredly, the strain of the last few days and the exertion of the hike to the bunker suddenly weighing her down. “The atmosphere is irrevocably altered. The microbes are the only thing that can possibly help the situation, and even that’s an incredible long shot.”

  “That’s what you think,” he said. Before either she or Tommy, who’d holstered his weapon but remained on alert, could move to stop him, Dennis sprinted to a point near the edge of his trail of combustibles. Pulling a Taser from a holster on his thigh, he fired at the first propane-soaked book.

  Victoria and the officer were knocked backward as the jungle exploded with an unearthly roar and a blinding flash. Flames raced along the line of books and burst into the dry undergrowth.

  Landing hard on her tailbone, the heavy tanks slamming into her back, Victoria let out an ungodly bellow of pain and fell onto her side to catch her breath. Opening her streaming eyes a split second later, she blinked and saw Dennis spin to face her from across the clearing. His eyes were wide with excitement, his face was split with a grin full of victory. His fists pumped the air as if he’d won a prize.

  “This is my island, Victoria. Mine. I told you I’d fix it,” he shouted above the roar of the inferno. “You should have believed me.”

  He’s insane.

  Her entire torso was screaming in pain at the slightest movement, but she made herself ignore it as she inched her hand toward the gun at her hip.

  She’d stop him. Whatever she had to do, she was going to stop his madness.

  Before Victoria could slide the weapon from its holster, the fire licked out at the empty propane tanks Dennis had carelessly tossed too near the beginning of his trail. The trace fumes leaking from the tanks ignited with a concussive force that knocked him off his feet.

  Victoria watched in horror as Dennis flew into the air and landed in a heap on his back—on top of the air tanks he still wore. She could hear his labored gasps.

  He was still alive.

  “Tommy, we—” She looked across the clearing to where he’d been standing. A smear of blood trailed downward along the wall of volcanic rock. Tommy lay slumped at the base of it, his head tilted forward onto his chest. Blood was gushing from the back of his skull. He wasn’t dead already, but he would be soon.

  It’s just me.

  Fighting against the driving pain, Victoria pulled herself to her knees. She crawled to the backpack Tommy had dropped and grabbed it, then moved as quickly as she could toward the entrance of the bunker. She was reaching for the door handle when, from the corner of her eye, she saw the flames lick out in the light breeze, sending a shower of sparks into the air near Dennis. One landed too near the broken valve on one of the air tanks still strapped to his back. Less than a second later, the tanks that had kept him alive while he worked exploded in a ball of fire, and Dennis truly became one with his island.

  Shaking and sick to her stomach, Victoria pulled open the bunker door and crawled inside.

  11:19 A.M., Monday, October 27, aboard the USS Eutaw Springs, off the coast of Taino

  “Holy Mother of God.” The words burst out of the otherwise silent sailor seated next to Sam near the head of the table and all heads turned to look at him. A split second later, following the sailor’s gaze, everyone in the room swiveled to look at the large screen at the end of the room.

  The jungle on the northern end of Taino had exploded into a fireball. Fire raced through the jungle in a snaking path, then leaped outward from the cliffs and bowed to the ocean’s surface like some sort of hellish rainbow. Flames were shooting into the sky and the wind was whipping the line of fire toward the open sea like breath from an angry dragon. The forested area was slowly, completely becoming a conflagration as the flames spread outward from its initial line into the heavy vegetation.

  Sam knew that every uniformed person in the room was combat-hardened, so it didn’t surprise him to note that they were watching the footage with the same degree of interest that he would watch a football game. It was obvious they’d seen plenty of large-scale destruction in their time. This might not be much more than a bit of unexpected excitement for them.

  Marty, the only other civilian there besides himself, wore an expression of utter shock. Sam forgot his nausea as he watched the wildfire burn with a sense of something close to wonder.

  The phone on the table rang instantly, jarring everyone from their silent awe. Sam had a feeling he knew who it was.

  After a brief, monosyllabic conversation, the commander put the call on the speakerphone.

  “Dr. Briscoe, this is Lucy Denton. I assume you’re watching the footage of Taino. What’s that fire going to do to our microbes?”

  “Ma’am, I don’t know. It’s going to get some of them. Depends on how far from it they are,” he replied, still feeling slightly dazed from everything that had happened in the last few minutes.

  “Is there any benefit to keeping this fire burning? Is it a short-term solution? Will it burn off the methane as it comes out of the water?”

  “Well, yes, but—” he said haltingly.

  “That�
��s all I need to know. When do we put it out?”

  “That plume rising from the water will burn out on its own when the concentration of methane goes below the combustible level. But if it reaches the part of the plume where the phyrruluxine is forming—”

  The tongue of fire was arcing outward in some places and licking higher in others, but all the while it kept snaking steadily through the sky toward the shore, following the invisible flow of methane. Without warning, a huge, magnificent fireball burst in midair, with flames in every shade of red and orange rushing in all directions, like an exploding star.

  Seconds later, a line of the blaze surged outward from the still-burning center. As if it were the devil’s own comet heading toward the west, its tail a glorious banner of thrashing fire, the streak of fire ruptured the holy blue of the sky.

  It seemed to Sam as if the world had split open and Hell was making itself welcome.

  “Never mind,” he said faintly, light-headed with disbelief as he watched the screen.

  He heard Lucy mutter something, then she said, “Was that the phyrruluxine?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Now what, Dr. Briscoe?”

  Sam shook himself but couldn’t tear his gaze from what was happening on the screen. “The good news is that between the microbes and what we did underwater, there should be less methane in the atmosphere, which means the formation of phyrruluxine should stop. The other good news is that phyrruluxine burns hot but fast. Unfortunately, it’s goin’ to ignite everything in its path ’til it burns out, Ms. Denton. If I was you, I’d start prayin’ it doesn’t reach the Keys.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Briscoe. Commander Duffy, please liaise with other ships in the region to get that fire on the island under control.”

  The line went dead and the room burst into a flurry of activity.

  Sam remained in his chair, dazed, watching the fire.

  11:42 P.M., Monday, October 27, aboard the USS Eutaw Springs, off the coast of Taino

  The rest of the day passed in a blur. Cyn came out of surgery and Sam was told she would be kept pretty doped up until the morning. The fire on the island had been put out by early evening and Victoria and her cache of hard drives had been rescued shortly thereafter. Lucy Denton had arrived some time around eight-thirty. Sam and Marty had been in debriefing sessions with teams of naval investigators and other feds since after lunch.

  Now it was nearing midnight and, craving whatever peace could be found aboard a ship built for war, Sam found himself up on deck standing next to Victoria. She was in a wheelchair and on some strong pain meds for the cracked tailbone and broken ribs she’d suffered, but she was still fairly lucid, if not downright loose compared to the other times he’d been in her company.

  Both of them were beyond exhausted but too wired to sleep.

  “That has got to be the strangest thing I’m ever going to see in this lifetime,” Sam murmured, knowing it was an understatement.

  The phyrruluxine had burned itself out before it reached land, and the methane drift had diffused to below a combustible concentration. The only evidence that the pipeline was still open and the methane was still rising to the surface was an eerie plume of flames that rose from the sea and reached into the sky like a torch from the underworld. It was beautiful and terrifying. A funnel of fire, it rose straight out of the water, then bent gently to undulate in the sky, changing direction with every eddy of air and flaring occasionally.

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” Victoria said dryly, her words ever so slightly slurred. “It’s a strange world out there, Sam. And it’s going to get more strange.”

  He gave a silent laugh. “I suppose it will.”

  A long silence ensued.

  “How long did you live down here?” he asked.

  “Eleven years,” Victoria replied. “It’s going to take a while to absorb the fact that it’s all gone. I mean, for the last ten years—everything we did was about the habitat or the mining. The people I knew. And now everyone and everything is just . . . gone.”

  “What’s going to happen now?”

  “I’m not sure. I had access to everything except Dennis’s long-term plan of succession,” she said with a shrug. “He kept that to himself. Probably to avoid giving anyone ideas. But I’m sure he also expected to live forever.”

  Sam rubbed a hand over his chin, idly wondering if he should just grow a beard. He’d developed a good head start on one. “Who do you suppose is going to take over?”

  Victoria smiled sleepily. “I’d be very surprised if it was anyone other than Charlie Deen. He’s known Dennis for ages, and Dennis trusted him.”

  “Dennis trusted you, too, didn’t he? Maybe you’re it. Just like playing tag.”

  “That’s cute, Sam, but it wouldn’t be me. Dennis put people into categories, and I wasn’t in that category.”

  “Because you’re a girl?” he asked lightly.

  “Because he thought I could sell him out,” she replied bitterly. “For all his genius, he didn’t know people very well.”

  He leaned down to rest his forearms on the railing in front of him, then turned to look at her. “You wouldn’t have? You were that loyal?”

  She had a sad smile on her face. “Yes, I was. Until he accused me of betraying him. That’s when I realized how stupid I’d been.”

  “So will you stay here if Charlie takes over?”

  “He might order me to, or put me under house arrest again if I say no,” she replied wryly. “After all, I’m still a citizen of The Paradise of Taino. And it was a paradise. Then again, Lucy might decide to throw me in prison after she picks my brain. I’d get ten years of hard labor, and spend all of it decrypting Dennis’s files.”

  “Seriously, what will you do now?”

  Victoria took in a deep breath that obviously hurt, and met his eyes. “I don’t know. I haven’t considered doing anything else in a long time. I thought I’d be here for a few more decades.” She paused. “Between you and me, I only accepted Dennis’s offer in the first place because of the commute. It’s a well-kept secret, but I’m really lazy at heart.”

  He laughed and she replied with a smile.

  “Seriously, as long as I have my computers nearby, I’m fine. I like my little cocoon. I suppose I’ll have to find another one. If anyone will hire me.”

  Sam paused for a minute. “Computers and cocoons, huh? Sounds a lot like academia. Maybe you should become a professor.”

  “Of paranoia? I didn’t know they offered that as a major these days.”

  He glanced away. “You’d be surprised. Hey—” He stopped talking and pointed, speechless, toward the plume of fire. Or where it had been a few moments ago.

  “It’s gone,” he whispered, his eyes going wide. “Tell me if I’m hallucinatin’, Vic. Is it still there and I’m just not seein’ it?”

  “If you’re hallucinating, Sam, then I am, too.”

  He grabbed her wheelchair by the handles and practically ran all the way to the elevator that would take them both up to the bridge. He was pressing buttons before the doors closed, and rushed off it as soon as the doors opened.

  With admirable restraint, Sam stood outside the door of the ship’s command center and asked for permission to enter. The commanding officer on the shift, a lieutenant they hadn’t met earlier, introduced himself and invited them in.

  “I’m real sorry, sir,” Sam said. “I know you’re busy, but I had to see it from here to make sure I wasn’t seein’ things. It’s gone, isn’t it?”

  The officer nodded, grinning. “Looks like it. That’s pretty impressive, Dr. Briscoe. We’re getting the satellite data now. The readings started dropping about half an hour ago, and now this.”

  “What’s ‘this’?”

  The lieutenant shrugged. “Our sonar array picked up some shifting still going on down on the seafloor. There’s still a lot of turbidity, which is causing some background noise, but the analyst thinks it might be shifting sediment. The fire goin
g out seems to support that.”

  A sailor turned from her place at a workstation. “Sir, the sensors are showing a rapid rise in the water density.”

  The lieutenant walked over to her area and looked at the numbers on her monitor, then turned to look over his shoulder at Sam with a grin. “Looks like you just became a hero, Dr. Briscoe.”

  CHAPTER

  38

  11:42 A.M., Monday, October 26, one year later, Miami, Florida

  Victoria Clark turned away from the stunning view of downtown Miami’s skyline. Urban settings would never be her first choice for a work environment but this one wasn’t so bad. The late morning autumn sun was lending the heavy city air an otherworldly shimmer and beyond that the Atlantic sparkled just as beautifully as it had through the window in her office on Taino.

  None of it mattered, though. She wasn’t going to work here.

  She turned back to face the three people in the room. None of them were seated, which didn’t surprise her, and only one of them was smiling, which also didn’t surprise her.

  “You haven’t told me yet why you chose me,” she said coolly. “I pled guilty to three federal offenses and was pardoned. That still makes me a convicted felon. Hardly the reputation you want lurking on your letterhead. And such nice letterhead,” she finished, running a finger over the letter that lay on the desk in front of her.

  “Do you like the office?” one of the men asked.

  “Of course I like the office. I even like the décor.”

  “And the job description?”

  “I like that, too,” she conceded. “And the money, and the benefits. Don’t trouble yourself itemizing it. I like it all.” She shrugged. “I want to know why me.”

  “We need you, Victoria.” The woman folded her arms in a way that was too familiar and leveled a look at her. “Do you want us to beg?”

  Victoria cocked her head. “You know, I think I do. More than a little. In fact, I’d like to see you grovel, Lucy.”

  Lucy Denton didn’t lose her cool, didn’t even roll her eyes. She just started to laugh.