Hold On! - Tomorrow (A Sci-Fi Thriller) Page 8

  Tito approached the control panel and pointed to a red blinking dot on the map screen. “He’s coming in over Washington D.C.” He switched on the microphone pad. “B.J., just relax, buddy. You don’t have to do anything. I’m bringing you in.”

  “Whatever.”

  Heather closed her eyes at the sound of B.J.’s unusually-quiet tone. She knew he was suffering the pits of sadness and depression.

  Minutes later, the external landing ramp elevator arrived. B.J. stood lifeless while the glass, semi-circular door opened.

  Heather tilted her head, not entirely certain he was in the suit. It seemed static, like a shell. “B.J.?”

  The helmet rose slowly as though he was drained of energy. Nothing else about him moved.

  “Baby, come on down. You’re OK,” she said.

  One slow step at a time, he exited the elevator. Heather quickened her pace and reached him as he arrived at the bottom of the steps, almost collapsing onto her.

  Tito and Crane ran to them. “B.J.? Buddy, what’s wrong?” Tito said.

  Even through the armor, it was clear he was shivering. Tito grasped the helmet and removed it. B.J.’s skin was pallid. His eyes were filled with panic and desperation. “I . . . I c-couldn’t save any more of them. I failed.”

  “No,” Heather said. “You didn’t fail. It wasn’t you, and it wasn’t the armor. Something jammed it. Tito found outside interference.”

  “K-Katie.” The word came out of him as a pitiful whimper.

  Heather grasped the armor’s shoulder pads and held him. He sobbed in her arms hysterically. “He needs help.”

  “B.J.,” Crane said. “You’re all right, kid. Katie is fine. You got her to safety. You saved her.”

  B.J. shook his head frantically. “No. She’s alone. I have to find her.”

  “We don’t know that. She’ll have family. She’ll be taken care of. You did what you had to do, and it was an extraordinary performance.” Crane placed his hand on Heather’s shoulder. “Take him home. Something’s happened to him. It looks like PTSD. You’re the one he needs the most right now.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Heather and Tito helped him out of the armor.

  Crane looked on, knowingly. Having been close to B.J. all his life, he was aware of his empathy, compassion, and adherence to fair play. He’d always been an extremely sensitive kid. The thought of failing a little girl who’d just lost her mother was killing him.

  However, what he was going through was why he was the perfect choice for this job. B.J. cared about people more than he cared about himself. But Crane knew those qualities came at a price.

  ***

  Night had fallen. B.J. sat trembling on his armchair with a bathrobe draped around him. Sipping brandy didn’t appear to be helping.

  “Baby, please talk to me,” Heather said, and sat beside him.

  He looked up, somewhat surprised. “Baby? Where did that come from?”

  “Oh, the hell with it,” she said with carefree abandon. “I’ve thought of you as ‘baby’ for years. We did say we were gonna talk about it this morning.”

  “Yeah, we did.”

  She shot him a shrewd smile. “Well?”

  “I don’t know what to say. I’m not in the best frame of mind right now.”

  “I know.” She placed her arm around his shoulder and huddled close to him.

  “Just before I left for Des Moines,” he said, “I swear I heard the voice of my dad in my helmet.”

  “David?”

  “No. My real dad. Brandon Drake. He said I had to be strong, and that what I had to face would be heartbreaking.”

  “Do you believe it really was him?”

  “I can’t be sure. He comes to me in my dreams.”

  Heather pondered his words for a moment. “There’s nobody else like you on the face of this earth. I just know it. When I was first at High View Elementary, I didn’t know anyone. I was the poorest kid in the school. You were the richest. Nobody ever messed with you. I remember watching you from afar. You were so damn cool. I always used to dream that maybe, one day, you would talk to me. But you didn’t.” She looked up at the ceiling in recollection. “And then the day came when you appeared from the shadows. They’d taken my backpack from me, but you took them out. All of them. I’d never seen anything like it. Not before and not until . . . you know. You moved so damn fast. It was incredible, like magic.”

  “Magic?”

  “And it didn’t stop. You wouldn’t let go of my hand until we reached the gate. You told your mom you wouldn’t leave me until my mom arrived. From that day, you sat beside me in class. You watched over me and we played together. You were the best friend I ever had. We fought. We bantered. But you never left my side.”

  He smiled sadly. “I remember.”

  “You gave me the drive to get to where I got to. I hadn’t seen you for two years, but when my entire world came crashing down, you suddenly appeared again, only more outrageous than ever. You were the new Interceptor.”

  His voice came through weakly. “I’m not anymore. I failed, H. I’m not my dad. They closed the operation.”

  “I was there in the situation room. You’re not cancelled. It’s just on hold until they fix the problem.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. You were in a bad way. You didn’t hear Director Crane clearly. You need to do this, baby. You always have. I knew what the situation with Katie would do to you when I was watching it.”

  “You did?”

  “Sure. A little girl just lost her mother, and you had to abandon her to strangers. That’s not in your nature.” She held his cheeks tenderly. “I get it, babe. You never got the chance to walk her home.”

  “God, I love you,” he said. They held one another’s gazes, and then, his lips met hers.

  Twelve

  Realization

  B.J. awoke to see Heather looking down at him. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” she said.

  “Good morning. What time is it?”

  “A little after six.”

  Groaning, he pulled the blanket over his head.

  “I think you should stay home today. Director Crane will understand.”

  In a livelier fashion, he threw the blanket off him. “No way. If I stay here alone all day, I’ll go out of my mind.” Groggily, he climbed out of bed and glanced back at her. “Did we really do what I think we did last night?”

  She smiled coyly. “Yes. And don’t worry. It’s only been coming for seventeen years. And you want to know something?”

  “What?”

  “I’m really glad it finally did.” She leaned forward and kissed him. “Let’s do breakfast, OK?”

  “Sure.” He picked up his robe from the floor and made his way to the kitchen. “I need to get back to the office. I have some investigative work to do to find out if Katie is all right.”

  “Actually, I’m in a better position to look into that,” she said.

  “How’s that?”

  “You’re an agent, and I’m the PR representative for Project: Interceptor. Investigating the outcome of the last mission will be far more valid coming from me.”

  He looked back at her wearily and nodded.

  ***

  By 10:00 a.m., B.J. found himself staring blankly at his office computer screen. Sadness over Katie consumed him. Her tiny voice saying, ‘Where’s metal man going?’ persistently echoed in his mind. Yeah, he thought. Where the hell is metal man going?

  A gentle knock on the door drew him out of his reverie. “Uncle Jed.”

  “How are you feeling, kid? I wasn’t expecting you to come in today.”

  “I had to. At least being here makes me feel like I’m doing something.” He looked up at Crane apologetically. “I’m really sorry about yesterday, Uncle Jed. I don’t know—”

  Crane cut him off with a raised palm. “I threw you in at the deep end, and it was to be expected. Even I was welling up watching you leave that little girl with the pol
ice. You’re a sensitive, feeling human being, B.J. But you’re tough, and you can handle it. I wouldn’t have proposed you for the project if you weren’t. I hate to say it, but as time goes by, it’ll get easier.”

  “How can it get easier now that Congress has pulled the plug on us?”

  Crane waved his hand dismissively. “It’s only temporary. It took Tito mere minutes to find a clue as to what caused the failure.”

  B.J. got out of his chair, wide-eyed. “What did he find?”

  “It seems there was some kind of electromagnetic interference at the moment the suit failed. A tiny blip appeared on the diagnostics readout. Tito has been running tests on the armor, and it’s working fine now.”

  “Electromagnetic interference? But how could that be?”

  “We don’t know, but it might have something to do with the earthquakes and tsunamis. I have a little investigation job for you, if you’re up to it.”

  “What would I be doing?”

  Crane placed his briefcase on the desk. He opened it up, took out a file, and handed it to B.J. “The man who’s been the most passionate about all this is Professor Chris Sully, a highly-revered seismologist at Oregon State University. I think it’ll be good for you to get out there and have a talk with him. You’ve been in the thick of two of these disasters, and I think between the two of you, you might be able to come up with something.”

  “Well, yeah, sure. When do I leave?”

  “This afternoon, if that’s OK. I think it’ll be good for you to take your mind off yesterday and keep you occupied until this crap with Congress has been sorted out.”

  B.J. smiled finally. Crane was right. This was just what he needed. He’d be working and applying himself to finding answers.

  Heather appeared in the doorway.

  “Hi,” B.J. said. “Uncle Jed has a new job for me.”

  “Oh? And what’s that?” she said.

  “I’m going to Oregon to discuss the disasters with an expert in the field, so I’ll be away for a few days.”

  “It’s quite a trip, but I think it’s terrific. I have some great news for you, too.”

  “Did you find out something about Katie?” he said eagerly.

  “Yes. I just spoke with the Des Moines chief of police. Katie was checked out by the hospital, and she’s fine. They let her father take her home. Apparently, she has grandparents, aunts and uncles, so she won’t be alone. She’ll be well cared for.”

  He stepped closer to her and threw his arms around her, feeling as though an enormous weight had been lifted from him. “Oh, thank you, baby. I needed to hear that so badly.”

  “I know you did.” She drew away slightly and looked him in the eye. “Now you’ve got a job to do, so you’d better get to it.”

  ***

  After a seven hour commercial flight to Eugene, Oregon, B.J. arrived at 8:00 p.m. and checked into a hotel.

  The following morning, he took a taxi to Oregon State University, his mind filled with questions. Had his Uncle Jed set this task for him to help give him a sense of purpose again? Was it really to help him take his mind off the disaster in Des Moines? What would he have to discuss with a seismologist? He knew nothing about the subject. Or was that the point? Was Jed trying to provide him with an education that might help him to understand the disasters?

  At 10:00 a.m. he arrived at the university and stepped out of the cab attired in a blue suit with his briefcase in hand. He knew he had to exude an aura of authority, unwarranted though it might have been. For some reason, the suit and briefcase made him feel more confident.

  He approached the front entrance and couldn’t fail to notice the huge, yellow ‘O’ positioned above the doors. As he entered the building, it seemed to continue. ‘O’ became a decorative feature of the fittings wherever he looked. The university clearly took pride in its home state.

  A tall man of approximately fifty approached him with a smile. “You must be Agent Drake,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m James Lieber, director of the university. Professor Sully has been expecting you.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise. If you’d like to follow me, I’ll take you to the professor’s office.”

  “Thank you.”

  The walk across the building was jovial. Lieber appeared particularly excited by receiving a visit from a government agent. B.J. could almost see his point of view. For the university to now be acting in an official, consultancy capacity must have surely added to its sense of prestige. If only the circumstances weren’t so bleak.

  They arrived at Professor Sully’s door and entered the room. B.J. took in the clinical environment of white walls bearing shelves, a series of monitor screens, and digital, three-dimensional maps adorning the walls.

  A wheelie chair reversed into view, with a shock of shoulder-length, gray hair falling at the back of the neck of its occupant. B.J. considered the cavalier way in which the man appeared to be somewhat comical.

  The chair spun around to reveal a bespectacled man of approximately Lieber’s age. “Agent Drake,” he said cheerfully, and glanced at Lieber. “Thanks, Jim.”

  “I’ll leave you gentlemen to discuss your business,” Lieber said, and exited the room.

  “Boring old fart.” Sully winked at B.J.

  B.J. smiled, realizing this man was a maverick. Sully automatically put him at ease with his almost juvenile approach.

  “So what can you tell me, sir?” B.J. said.

  “Please, call me Chris. And I can tell you a hell of a lot . . . and nothing at all.”

  “Well, can we start with ‘a hell of a lot’ and take it from there?”

  “Sure can.” Sully rolled his chair across to a monitor screen. “I don’t need to tell you, the trouble with these disasters is that they make no sense.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “OK, New York was mildly vulnerable, but this seems to be striking globally in extremely low risk zones. What was that latest one? Leicestershire, England? A totally seismically sound location. Des Moines, Iowa? No. This can’t happen.” Sully pointed to a number of locations on a holomap where the earthquakes had struck. “Look at this. Uruguay, Poland, Singapore, Estonia. All of those places are unlikely to be hit. Yet all of them have been hit in close succession.”

  “What do you make of it?”

  “I have no explanation. I’ve run seismic tests on all of those areas using satellite data immediately preceding the incidents. I found nothing, and yet I went over it with a fine-toothed comb. It’s been driving me insane.”

  A thought crossed B.J’s mind. “Could electromagnetic activity be causing this?”

  “Electromagnetic activity? Most definitely. But I’ve already looked into that. E.L.F. waves can cause all kinds of crap. We’ve known that since the mid-nineteen-eighties.”

  “So why couldn’t that be an explanation?”

  “Because there was no E.L.F. activity recorded in the areas affected. In any case, it would take three-point-six-million watts of E.L.F. waves to trigger so much as a tremor here in Oregon. And we’re an earthquake hot zone, but we haven’t been hit.”

  B.J.’s mind raced, a passionate need for an answer consuming him. Jed said it was electromagnetic waves that had shut down his armor. “Professor, you said it would take three-point-six-million watts of E.L.F.—as I understand that term to mean extremely low frequency—to cause an earthquake in a vulnerable zone.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “So, what would it take to cause a hit on somewhere like Des Moines?”

  “Probably thirty million watts, based on the damage caused. And there’s nothing in any of these areas generating anything like that. I’ve checked.” Sully spun back round to his monitor. “It’s contradiction after contradiction.”

  B.J. pondered the professor’s words. Electromagnetism caused the armor’s failure. It was also a plausible explanation for the disasters, but there was no evidence for it in any of the target sites. So what i
s it?

  “There’s no natural cause I can detect,” Sully said, “and this subject is my baby.”

  B.J.’s head snapped to him. “What did you say?”

  “I said there’s no natural cause for this.”

  B.J. came toward him as an ultimate realization dawned on him. “You’re right, Professor. There is no natural cause for this.”

  “I don’t follow you, Agent Drake.”

  “It isn’t some-thing that’s doing this.”

  “So what do you think it is?”

  B.J. considered the outrageousness of his response for a moment, but finally decided there couldn’t be any other explanation. “Some-one is doing this.”

  Thirteen

  Network Premiere

  “Good evening. We’re coming to you live from our Fox affiliate studios, WXXA in Albany. At this time, Fox News has temporarily relocated while reconstruction takes place at our main headquarters in New York City. The devastation caused by the earthquake and tsunami was considerable.

  “Here in the studio tonight, we are hosting an exclusive interview with a survivor of the Zenith Corporation tragedy, who has gone on to become the official PR representative for the government initiative responsible for saving her life. We welcome our guest, Heather Addison, of the Homeland Security office, the Emergency Defense and Investigation Division.”

  Jed Crane sat behind his desk transfixed by the broadcast on his holoscreen. He gripped the arms of his chair in anticipation. Heather had been thoroughly briefed and was accompanied in the studio by an entourage of EDID advisors. However, the interviewer, forty-two-year-old Jacqueline Archer, was known for her uncompromising and often abrasive, take-no-prisoners attitude. As such, his confidence in Heather’s ability to pull this off was not as high as he would’ve liked.

  “Uncle Jed?”

  Startled, Crane jolted out of his chair, but immediately relaxed at the sight of B.J. standing in his doorway. “Oh, you’re back. Apologies, B.J. I’m a little on edge.”