Harbinger (The Janus Harbinger Book 1)

by Olan Thorensen

  “Okay,” Zach said, “it sounds like you don’t believe this is simply missing a shift. Am I reading you right?”

  “Not Eddie. He’s reliable, but where is he?”

  Zach frowned, thinking about how to proceed. “I assume you haven’t done a thorough search of the site,” said Zach.

  Avila shook his head.

  “So, he could still be around somewhere. Could he be outside camp . . . maybe looking for fossils?”

  Avila shrugged. “I don’t know, but if he went outside camp, he should have logged it.”

  Zach wasn’t as sure. “Let’s run over to the main building and check the logbook.”

  They found his entry in the log for the previous day. Wilcox. Bone hunting on Baldy Ridge to the north. Out at 5:12 p.m., expected back by 7:00 p.m.

  Zach looked up at Avila. “He was off site yesterday.” Zach glanced at his watch. “And should have been back about fifteen hours ago. No one has seen him since?”

  “Well, no one I’ve spoken to . . . maybe eight people. And I think some of them asked others, but I’m not sure exactly who.”

  “Okay, first thing to do is a thorough search of the camp, just in case, and organize a search outside the camp. Let me alert Sinclair, and I’ll get the go-ahead for a general site alert and meeting.”

  Zach found Sinclair in his office. He didn’t look at Jill as he hurriedly passed her and Bre’s work area. She turned to see who it was. She wasn’t aware of a smile forming, but Zach was through the door and into Sinclair’s office before she could speak.

  Sinclair raised his head from reading the latest reports on the Object’s communications.

  “We may have a missing person.”

  “Who?” asked Sinclair, setting down a pen.

  “Eddie Wilcox. One of the radar people in Level 1. He didn’t report for his shift this morning, and so far none of his coworkers have seen him since yesterday. The site log shows he signed out yesterday to do some fossil surveying in Baldy Ridge. He signed out saying he would be back by 7:00 p.m. yesterday, but he didn’t sign back in.”

  “Recommendation?”

  “I’d like to call a general camp assembly. In case he’s actually in camp, that should bring him out. If not, then organize an exhaustive search of the site to rule out the possibility he’s injured or hiding for whatever reason. If that doesn’t turn him up, we should send groups out to scour Baldy Ridge. After that, it would be a general search of the surrounding terrain out to ten, maybe fifteen miles.”

  “Agreed, do it.” Sinclair paused. “And if he doesn’t show up?”

  Zach shrugged. “Let’s see what happens.”

  Sinclair swiveled in his chair and activated the alert signal. The jarring signal sounded everywhere on site. After a few seconds, Sinclair used a microphone, and the siren was replaced by Sinclair’s voice. “This is General Sinclair. All staff members report to the dining hall IMMEDIATELY. I repeat, all staff are to report to the dining hall immediately. If you see anyone who might not have heard this alert, let them know. If anyone cannot come to the dining hall immediately, you must let someone else know where you will be.” Sinclair put away the microphone, and the repeating pulses started again.

  The earlier drills now proved their worth when, for the first time, the assembly was for a real situation. They didn’t make the target six minutes, it took just under seven, but Sinclair was satisfied with everyone’s intent to get there as fast as possible.

  “All right, people, let’s settle down.” They quieted and looked expectantly at Sinclair. “Is Eddie Wilcox here?” Sinclair asked. “Eddie Wilcox.” No answer. After a few seconds, Sinclair asked, “Has anyone seen Eddie Wilcox today?” No answer. Sinclair then turned to Zach, “Okay, looks like we have a problem. Take over.”

  Sinclair stepped to one side, and Zach moved forward. “Jose Avila reported this morning that Eddie didn’t show up for his morning shift. A check of his room and around some of the site didn’t turn him up. Since everyone is supposed to be at this assembly and he’s not here, he may be on site and can’t or won’t respond if he’s injured or sick.”

  Zach organized them into groups to search specific buildings. At least one person familiar with the structure was assigned to each search group. Forty-one staff members were left unassigned and told to remain in the dining hall. Forty-six minutes later, the last group reported back with no sign of Wilcox.

  A pall lay over the assembled staff members when they heard the negative news. Zach waited until everyone was present.

  “Okay, people, it’s likely he’s outside the site, but we had to be methodical. At this point, we have no idea if he’s in trouble, injured, got lost, or just didn’t come back for some reason. We’ll form teams to search Baldy Ridge north and south out to where the ridge slopes down and peters out about five miles to the south and three miles north. The slopes on both sides are steep, and we’ll search every inch, in case he’s somewhere not easily visible. Those of you not part of a search team can return to your usual activities.”

  By mid-afternoon, they had the answer—still no sign of Eddie Wilcox.

  “There’s only one option left,” Zach announced at the next all-staff meeting. “We’ll have to search farther from the camp and in all directions. The sun doesn’t set this time a year, so the teams will search until they cover their assigned sectors.”

  Forty of the staff members were divided into five-person teams. Sinclair, Andrew, and Zach poured over a detailed map of the surroundings and assigned each team to a specific sector or terrain feature. The kitchen staff quickly prepared sandwiches, and everyone left with enough water and food for ten hours.

  A few minutes past 2:00 a.m., the last search group returned. Zach, Huxler, and Sinclair met with Jefferson, the leader of the last team to return.

  “Not a sign,” said Andrew, shaking his head. “We went to three valleys beyond Baldy Ridge. One of the maintenance women thought she remembered Wilcox saying something about having done that once a few months ago. She couldn’t recall if he had found fossils there, but we pushed on and checked it. Nothing. Shadows were also getting a bit tricky.”

  “I was worried about that,” said Zach. “The sun is always low in the sky this far north and casts long shadows. There are so many jagged rock formations that it gets hard to see into them, and it affects depth perception.” He shook his head. “General, we can send more people out, but the best people to lead search groups need some rest. I know there are more volunteers who would continue the search, but I recommend we let everyone sleep and start again in five or six hours.”

  “There’s a good chance we’re not going to find him, isn’t there?” asked Sinclair.

  “Doesn’t look good,” said Zach. “It’s been what? Thirty-two, thirty-three hours? If it was a matter of his being merely injured but conscious, I think we would’ve found him.”

  “I agree,” said Andrew. “People in my group shouted themselves hoarse. In this terrain, with the clear air and few other sounds, he would have heard and answered if he was able to, probably anywhere within a half-mile or more of a team.”

  “All right,” said Sinclair. “Twenty or more people are waiting to join the search. I’ll announce that we’re suspending the search for now, and we’ll start again at . . .”

  He looked at his watch. “Let’s make it 8:00 a.m. for the new search groups. You two will be up again to lead the groups, and let’s use as many fresh people as possible.”

  “I recognize the search today was focused on finding Eddie,” said Huxler, “but there’s another aspect to consider. One good and bad thing about an isolated community like this is morale status. Not finding Eddie at all will have more negative impact than even if he’s found dead. People can feel that not enough was done to find him . . . something that can linger indefinitely. I know the search so far was carried out well, but I recommend that regular site operations take a back seat for a while to quell any suggestions that not enough was done.”


  Sinclair frowned as he considered the counselor’s words.

  “Doesn’t hurt to do as the doc suggests,” said Zach. “There’s even a logic to it. The terrain here is so difficult that it wouldn’t hurt to go over the same ground several times. For example, Baldy Ridge could be searched using different teams because no two groups will cover or see the same thing.”

  Futility

  The next day, the five-person search parties swept as far as fifteen miles from the site. Forty other staff members carried out another slow, painstaking search on both Baldy Ridge slopes. Neither effort found a sign of Wilcox. Searches continued for two more days as hope waned.

  The more open terrain was easily examined. The problem was that areas of rocky outcroppings and fissures had innumerable places where an unconscious person, or a body, could remain undiscovered. If they had had a hundred times as many searchers, they still could not have looked into every possible hiding place. Each day, search parties organized and moved out to search specific sections of the terrain, only to return that evening or the next day with nothing to report.

  As a longshot effort, Nylander remembered Wilcox talking about extensive ammonoid and brachiopod fossil beds dating from the Permian Period 250 million years ago that were supposed to lie in the northern part of the Raanes Peninsula, north of the site.

  Andrew led the five army men on a three-day search north and north-northwest. It was as far as Andrew had ever hiked from the site. They were almost twenty-one miles north-northeast, standing on a promontory at around 4,500 feet—at the high point of a mountain spine running north-south. No vegetation grew on the bare rocks, and they could see farther north along the spine, down both flanking slopes and into the valleys on both sides for many miles. A mile or so to their rear had been a higher point, but it was inside the cloud layer, giving visibility of only a few yards.

  They had pushed on farther than planned in order to get under the cloud layer for a last look beyond. From where they stood, it was as if they were in an enormous room, with a solid layer of cloud as the ceiling above them. Three sets of binoculars swept the land. They had used flares and smoke grenades to attract Eddie’s attention when they were on lower elevations. However, from their current position, the signals would have disappeared into the clouds. Except for a group of caribou in the western valley, nothing moved. They didn’t say it, but it would have taken significant movement for them to notice anything at these distances against the rock background. Yet they had been loath to give up.

  “Sorry, Major,” said Lieutenant Montaro, putting his pair of binoculars down. “I don’t see anything.”

  Sergeant Shalton shook his head as he stored his binoculars. “If he was dead or unable to move, it would take ten thousand men a month to even start to do a thorough search of this terrain.”

  “Right,” said Montaro, “the only real hope was if he was alive and could call out or move and make himself seen.”

  Andrew sighed. “Even if he was standing right in the open, we might not see him. If he had gotten disoriented and lost, I would hope he would have the presence of mind to leave signs of himself, such as building rock cairns on ridgelines. Something.”

  Andrew took a last look—not hoping to see Wilcox but to consider the terrain. At times, the barrenness, the eerie dearth of human noises, and the vistas would have been strangely appealing—but not today. Today an aura of cold and barrenness hugged the terrain.

  “All right. Let’s pack it up and head back to base.”

  They would never know they were one of three search teams that came within view of the cave that the two Eskimos used as a base. The entrance angle was such that it could be found only when someone was within twenty feet of the opening. A team led by Willie came the closest before turning away. Inside, Amaruq and Tupilaq had been prepared to shoot the searchers. Amaruq was relieved when the teams moved on. Tupilaq was both satisfied and disappointed.

  People offered only halfhearted arguments when Zach recommended and Sinclair agreed to call off the search. To assuage their morale more than encourage anyone’s hope of finding him, Sinclair said that the five-man military training units would keep a lookout. Yet no sign of Eddie Wilcox was found after another month.

  The day when Sinclair formally called off the search was somber. Even though most people realized Eddie must be dead, a last glimmer of hope had lingered. When Sinclair extinguished that last ember, Huxler recommended that they schedule a memorial service. However, a spontaneous version of this happened toward the end of the evening meal when Bre announced that Samantha (Sam) Beauford had something to say. Sam talked about what she knew of Eddie, his life, his love for his children, Robbie, eight, and Gina, ten, who lived with his ex-wife. He’d told her that he missed them terribly but looked forward to seeing them when his tour ended.

  Other staff members followed with anecdotes during the next half-hour. When the gathering broke up, Huxler walked up to Sinclair and whispered, “I think that was as good a catharsis as we’re going to get. It’ll take a little time, but in a week or two the staff’s mood will slowly return to normal, though maybe not all the way.”

  CHAPTER 36

  THE COMING NIGHT

  Moods

  When Rotham signed on to a scheduled audio/monitor session with Simeon the day after the search for Wilcox was called off, he was prepared for the usual obfuscations. Simeon would ask for information and Rotham would give it, assuming it seemed innocuous enough, and then ask for some return information from Simeon. Usually, whatever Simeon told them was either something they had heard before or, if new, had no relevance to a question the staff wanted answered. An ongoing discussion, some would say argument, continued on whether Simeon was deliberately unforthcoming. Today, Rotham immediately got an indication something would be different.

  “Hello, Simeon, how are you today?”

  “I am fine, Jeff. How are you?”

  “I’m fine also,” Rotham answered perfunctorily, as he shuffled some notes in front of him. He never looked up from his notes at the monitor showing Simeon’s head. “I thought we’d talk about languages today. You had some interesting comments when we talked about this topic last week.”

  “That’s fine, Jeff, but I was wondering if there is any problem I should know of.”

  Rotham looked up at the monitor, surprised. “A problem?” Simeon was frowning. Frowning? Rotham thought. Simeon is frowning? Rotham hit one of the alert buttons to his right. The site net instantly sent an alert to Mueller and Huxler to come running—something new was happening with the Object. They would monitor the ongoing conversation between Rotham and Simeon and only join in if requested by Rotham. Mueller was in Level 3’s main workroom and rushed to a secondary monitoring station within seconds. Huxler had an appointment with one of the maintenance staff, whom Dr. Wilderman thought might be having some adjustment problems. It took him a few minutes to wind down the session, apologize, and reschedule the counseling for the next day. Witnesses grinned and shrugged to one another to see Wilber Huxler running between buildings.

  An hour later, Rotham, Huxler, and Mueller began a long session of mulling over how Simeon had detected the staff’s mood shift caused by Wilcox’s disappearance. All Level 3 staff members asserted that they had not mentioned anything. The conclusion was that Simeon’s ability to read human behavior was more advanced than everyone realized—something that was both encouraging and worrisome, as seemed to be a familiar pattern.

  The pall hanging over the site gradually eased. Sessions with Simeon, both audio/monitor and virtual reality, continued with no recent major breakthroughs, as judged by most of the Level 3 staff—although Mueller disagreed.

  “Maybe it’s because I’ve been involved in this longer than most of you. I see changes, even if they’re too gradual for others to register them. You have to admit Simeon is acting more ‘human’ than before.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” said Charles Adams, “or maybe he’s just learned how to better imitate o
ur behavior, especially with facial expressions. Far more important and worrying is how he knew about Wilcox disappearing.”

  “That’s not quite accurate, Charles,” said Huxler. “He never mentioned Wilcox, only that he detected mood changes among the Level 3 staff. However, I agree with you about the significance of the Object detecting changes in human behavior and concluding something had changed the staff’s mood. That’s exciting and disquieting at the same time.”

  “Yes, but it’s got nothing to do with getting real information out of him,” said Adams.

  “Leave him alone, Charles,” snipped Rachel. “I prefer his optimism to your pessimism.”

  Adams glared at her but did not respond. The two had been an item for some time, but there were murmurings that new tensions had developed for whatever reason. Huxler suspected that Adams was becoming more frustrated because Simeon was the least forthcoming to him than with any of the other staff members interacting with the Object. Huxler had discussed Adams recently with Sinclair. Adams was becoming more of a distraction in the last months, constantly griping about everything and sniping at people, particularly the three VR people and Jill. Mueller noted that Adams ignored Zach and Willie, out of either caution or disdain. Twice, Mueller had asked Huxler to do something about Adams, or else he might suggest to Sinclair that Adams be transferred out.

  Not that Adams was the only vexed member of Level 3. Simeon’s recalcitrance, combined with his giving apparently random pieces of new information and his periodic favoring of one staffer over another, worked together to maintain people’s level of frustration.