Never Again

by M. A. Rothman

  “I’m fine.” She barked out a nervous laugh, brushed the leaves out of her shoulder-length hair, and hopped up to her feet. “Thanks to you. Holy shit....” She stared at the half-demolished cabin for a few seconds and shivered.

  Stryker’s senses were on edge, as the scent of dirt and char momentarily sent him back to another time and place.

  He’d seen what improvised explosive devices could do. “We were lucky.”

  Mia pointed to some debris next to the remains of the cabin. “Some of the wood over there is smoldering. We better put it out.”

  Glancing over his shoulder, he motioned for Mia to stand back. “Let me clear the area first. ”

  “But what if there’s another—”

  “Listen, if I’m paying attention and still set something off, I deserve what I get.”

  As Stryker carefully approached the smoldering remains, he heard Mia’s voice as she spoke on her radio.

  “Meredith? Reach out to the Pierce County PD, I need their bomb techs out at my location ASAP. We’ve got a situation.”

  ###

  The Pierce County PD ended up calling in the Army’s Explosive Ordinance Disposal team, and those guys began actively scouring the area, searching for bombs and collecting evidence.

  As the EOD team processed the scene outside the cabin, Stryker hovered over the body of an elderly man lying inside it. The man was dressed in a heavily-stained sleeveless t-shirt, threadbare camo pants, and a pair of well-used hiking boots.

  The sour smell of death hung in the air as Stryker scanned the sparse remains of what had been the man’s living quarters.

  “Did he die in the blast?” Mia asked, standing at the entrance to the partially-destroyed cabin.

  Wearing latex gloves, Stryker pushed aside the scraggly gray beard, noticed an odd hourglass-shaped tattoo on the side of the man’s neck, and felt for a pulse. “No chance, he’s cold. He’s been dead for at least a day and a half or more.”

  “How do you know that?” Mia approached and sat on the back of her heels with a grim expression. “He was in town two days ago.”

  Stryker squeezed the man’s thigh and nodded. “His muscles are flaccid. In a dead body, the muscles begin to stiffen up after a few hours, and usually thirty-six to forty-eight hours after death, the body loses rigor. Since this body is cold, he’s been dead more than a few hours, but since his muscles are no longer locked, that means he’s been dead not much less than a day and a half. So I’d set the time of death to be somewhere between thirty-six and forty-eight hours ago.”

  Not seeing any obvious marks on his face or clothes, he lifted the old man’s bare right arm and nodded. Purple stains ran underneath it. “Notice the bruises all along where his arm rested against the ground. That tells me he hasn’t been moved since he died.”

  He leaned forward, lifted one of the man’s eyelids, and noticed red dots on the whites of his eyes. “Huh, interesting.”

  “What’s so interesting?”

  Scanning the dark recesses of the cabin, he noticed a discarded plastic bag and frowned. He took the latex gloves off, he pulled a phone out of his pocket, and began rapidly dialing.

  With the phone on speaker, the ring reverberated through the cabin and almost immediately someone picked up. “What’s up, Stryker?”

  “Sir, I need a full forensics team here. I’ve got a dead guy with signs of petechial hemorrhaging. I see a plastic bag nearby, and this all looks wrong to me.”

  “Shit. Roger that, I’ve got your GPS coordinates and I’ll arrange for some folks to meet you up there with a full forensics kit. Oh, and Stryker, I just got word from on high. I don’t know what’s going on, but the flag officers are buzzing like their hornet’s nest just got kicked. Anything we find is off to USACIL, no exceptions. Keep your eyes peeled and keep me posted on what your team finds.”

  “Will do, Captain.” Stryker ended the call and glanced at Mia, who stared at him with her dark-brown eyes. “What?”

  “I didn’t understand half of that. Plastic bag? USACIL?”

  Not wanting to disturb the scene any further, Stryker motioned for her to follow him out of the cabin. “It’s actually pretty basic forensics. Our dead guy back there had some bleeding in the eyes. That’s what those red splotches in the whites of his eyes were. That typically is a sign of some kind of stress. It can come from heavy coughing, vomiting, or asphyxia ... strangulation. That plastic bag looks totally out of place. You put these things together and it sets off a whole bunch of alarms in my head.”

  “So you think he was killed?”

  He shrugged. “I can’t really tell. We need him to get a thorough exam, so the forensics team is probably going to cart him and half of these woods off to USACIL to get to the bottom of it all.”

  “USACIL?”

  “Sorry, that’s ... how do you say it? It’s kind of like the Army’s version of Quantico. It’s where the Army sends stuff to be analyzed in a lab environment.”

  “Sir?”

  Stryker glanced over his shoulder as one of the EOD guys approached, holding a plastic baggie full of what looked like bomb fragments. “What’s up, Sergeant?”

  “We found another explosive on the far end of the hill. It was a basic setup with C4, blasting cap, ball bearings, and a tripwire to set it off. We’ve disarmed it. From the fragments found so far, it looks like it’s a twin of what you guys stumbled into.”

  “Are you done with the perimeter sweep?”

  “We did a laser and a GPR sweep. GPR didn’t find any underground booby-traps, but we’re doing a laser sweep one-hundred yards further out to make sure whoever did this didn’t have anything else in the area.”

  “GPR? A laser sweep?” The sheriff asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the sergeant responded. “We use ground-penetrating radar to sweep for mines. Didn’t find anything, but that’s not a surprise, since this entire area is nothing but glacial till. It’s a real pain to dig in. As for the aboveground stuff, we use green lasers to light up the area we’re scanning. Any tripwires across any of the open spaces will be pretty easy to see with the green light flaring off it.”

  Stryker nodded at the soldier. “Great job, and make sure you don’t handle anything directly. Everything’s going back to USACIL for analysis. Let your team know.”

  “Yes, sir. Will do.”

  “Dismissed, sergeant.”

  Stryker glared at the remains of the cabin. “How the hell did that old guy get access to C4?”

  ###

  Burt couldn’t believe how his life had changed in just the last few weeks. Normally, his day would be fairly mundane, split between teaching a couple of classes at Caltech and running the Near Earth Object program out of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory for NASA. And now the fate of the world was on a precipice, and he of all people was sitting on a sofa in the Oval Office, six feet from the President of the United States.

  She leaned forward, her gaze locked on his. “Doctor Holmes has been injured? Is that what Doctor Patel said?”

  “All I know is what I got from a thirty-second conversation with her while she was still in the air, but she did say that he’d received a gash on his head and was initially unconscious. Neeta was specifically requesting help.” Burt hated to give reports secondhand, but in such a critical situation, he had no choice.

  The president pursed her lips, her jaw muscles clenching.

  “Umm, Madam President, can you make sure Neeta, I mean Doctor Patel, accompanies Doctor Holmes when they get here? She’s the only one of any of us who knows him other than Hildebrand, and frankly, I don’t think him and Hildebrand get along.”

  “They’re not scheduled to land for another half hour,” she muttered to nobody in particular. The president turned to her right and looked at the gray-haired old man sitting in one of the gathered chairs. “Doug, get in touch with the pilot for Doctor Holmes’ transport and make sure the Hildebrand situation is addressed. And when they
land, please make sure Doctor Patel is brought to the Situation Room, along with Doctor Holmes.”

  “Understood, Madam President,” Doug responded, and despite his aged appearance, he hopped out of his chair and jogged energetically to the nearest exit.

  Margaret turned her attention back to Burt. “Doctor Radcliffe, I’ve asked to meet with you for a very specific reason. But before we get into that, I need you to understand some of what we’re dealing with.

  “Unfortunately, we think that aspects of Indigo have leaked to some rather unsavory individuals. I can’t be certain to what extent others know, but our intelligence services have intercepted broadcasts coming from a subversive religious sect calling themselves the Brotherhood of the Righteous. They’ve historically caused the world untold grief, but most of the countries have managed to keep them under control.” Margaret craned her neck and spoke loudly, “Records keeper, display file BR13.”

  “Voice match confirmed,” a disembodied voice proclaimed through a speaker in the ceiling. “Displaying video clip BR13.”

  A holographic image appeared in the middle of the room, displaying a dozen cloaked figures that looked surprisingly like medieval monks.

  One of the figures stepped forward and pulled his hood back.

  Burt’s eyes widened at the shocking image: a good-looking man, with white hair and alabaster skin, a startling contrast to his coarse-weaved brown monk’s garb. The man’s vivid pink eyes stared at him with the spark of a fanatic’s zeal. The monk smiled, approached the camera, and began speaking with a heavy Eastern-European accent.

  “Glory to you, my brothers. The time is upon us. God, in his infinite wisdom, has willed that the time of reckoning come in our lifetimes—that time is now.”

  The man’s tone was ominous, yet compelling. Burt easily understood how others might fall sway to him. There was something about the tone of his voice that was hard to ignore.

  “Those who are within reach of my voice, don’t allow the lies of false leaders to sway what you know to be the true words of God. For they will try.

  It is said in the Bible that,

  ‘I will show wonders in the heavens above

  and signs on the Earth below,

  blood and fire and billows of smoke.

  The sun will be turned to darkness and the Moon to blood before the coming of the great and glorious day of the Lord.

  And everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.’

  Even the American President, a heathen, has foreseen the coming of our Lord. The prophecies in the Bible are coming to pass, and we must fight against those who would interfere with our Lord’s plan.

  Go, my brothers! Fight against the tyranny of the heathens. We must stop them, or may God have mercy on your souls.”

  Margaret looked at Burt and sighed. “That message is now broadcasting over and over. From what we can tell, these zealots come from all walks of life. They’re represented by all racial, cultural and ethnic identities and so far, they’ve been very hard to root out. We’ve blocked and destroyed thousands of transmitters worldwide, but we know that the message is getting through to some of the Brotherhood’s followers out there. You can’t imagine how many bombs have been defused, or how many attacks have been thwarted. They literally believe that somehow, all will be fine if we allow the heavens to fall down to Earth. They see it as God’s plan. I don’t know about you, but I’m not about to let that happen if we can avoid it.”

  Burt grimaced at the spot where the hologram had displayed and shook his head. “They’re crazy. It’s one thing to have your beliefs, but to commit suicide and drag all of humanity with you?”

  Margaret sniffed disdainfully. “I’m afraid that the trouble this so-called Brotherhood represents will only be getting worse.”

  Feeling uneasy, Burt asked, “You didn’t show me that because you want me to figure out what to do about it, did you? That’s not exactly what I do.”

  With a slight grin, the president shook her head. “No, that’s more in my department. I wanted you to be aware of what we’re dealing with behind the scenes.” She pressed her lips together and gazed at Burt for a few seconds.

  Burt felt a chill as the president stared silently at him. It was as if she was deciding whether or not to make his day or ruin it.

  “Doctor Radcliffe,” she finally said, “I’ve read your file and I’d like to ask you to take on a responsibility that is likely going to be rather distasteful for you. But I don’t have a better alternative....”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Neeta watched, slack-jawed, as Greg Hildebrand yelled, “This has to be a mistake!” All the while, two soldiers half-escorted, half-dragged him into the forward compartment, while a third soldier approached and said, “Doctor Patel, I’m Platoon Sergeant Williams, and I’ve been asked to inform you that Mister Hildebrand has been relieved of command for this mission and will be detained until I hand him off to the security detail that will await us when we land at Andrews. I’ve also been asked to inform you that until the wheels hit the ground, you’ve got command.” He hitched his thumb back toward the other soldiers, who were sitting on the seats that lined the walls of the plane. “The boys and I will help with anything within reason, if you need it.”

  Blinking with shock, she glanced at Dave, who gaped at both her and Sergeant Williams with a confused expression.

  The meaning of the sergeant’s words suddenly sunk in, and she sat up, resolve flushing through her system. She pointed at Dave’s restraints. “Sergeant Williams, can you remove Doctor Holmes’ restraints?”

  The sergeant glanced behind him. He quickly pointed at his own eyes and then to Dave, and three soldiers hopped off their chairs, the seats producing a loud metallic clang as they slammed back up onto the wall. Sergeant Williams retrieved a key-like metal object from one of his pockets.

  The soldiers gathered behind Dave, and before anything else happened, Neeta raised her hand and leaned toward her friend. “Dave, I don’t know what Greg told anybody about you, but I think these guys are nervous about you doing something crazy if they unlock your restraints.” She reached forward and put her hand on his knee. “You’re fine, right?”

  Dave glanced behind him and saw the wall of soldiers, then turned back and gave Neeta a wink. “I’m still the same self-absorbed nerd I’ve always been. Hildebrand is the only one that needs to worry about me.”

  He made two fists, and the veins and muscles in his forearms bulged.

  The sergeant knelt to unlock the first of the straps that held Dave’s legs to the seat, paused, and then glanced sideways at Dave, giving him a lop-sided smile. “Sir, despite my own personal feelings on the matter, I can’t allow you to harm Mister Hildebrand.”

  “Understood, Sergeant. I’ll behave.”

  Dave sniffed loudly as the soldier began unlocking his restraints. He turned his gaze to Neeta and asked, “What about Bella?”

  Neeta stood as the last of Dave’s restraints fell away. She curled her finger at Dave, inviting him to follow, and smiled. “I was hoping you’d be able to introduce me.”

  ###

  Neeta watched Dave and Bella ever so gently hold hands, remaining silent as if some kind of unspoken communication flowed between them. She’d never seen Dave like this. Neeta wasn’t sure she’d seen anyone exude such a single-minded care for another.

  A flush of warmth spread through her chest and infused her with something that seemed completely foreign. Watching the two stirred an unfamiliar emotion in Neeta, and inexplicably, the image of Burt popped up in her mind’s eye.

  Clearly Hildebrand’s loss of his command could only have been made possible by Burt talking to the president. Nothing else made sense.

  Stunned by these strange thoughts, she whispered silently to Burt, even though he wasn’t there: “Thank you.”

  Dave turned to her and flashed a brilliant-white smile, which contrasted against his nearly black skin. He walked to Nee
ta with Bella following, and all the while she held onto his arm. “Neeta, I’d like to introduce you to my better half.”

  Bella’s face lit up with a smile. She was pretty, likely in her mid-twenties, and there was something hypnotic about her green eyes. They seemed to sparkle with an almost incandescent fire.

  “Neeta, this is Bella. Bella, this is Neeta Patel. She’s a brilliant researcher with a real gift for complex math.”

  Neeta extended her hand, and Bella took a step backwards, an expression of pain or perhaps discomfort crossing her face.

  Dave turned to Bella and spoke reassuringly. “It’s okay. She’s a good friend. You can trust her.”

  With a determined expression, Bella seemed to screw up her courage and slowly extended her hand.

  Neeta moved cautiously, recalling Bella’s rocking back and forth and shouting gibberish. She was obviously not one-hundred-percent there, and Neeta tentatively touched her hand, not sure what the girl’s reaction would be.

  Bella’s eyes widened as her gaze locked onto Neeta’s and she shared a shy smile. “I think you’re a beautiful person, Neeta Patel.”

  Neeta blinked and wondered where the crazy girl who’d yelled numbers at her had gone.

  The pilot’s voice sounded through the cabin. “Please take your seats, we’re on final approach and should be on the ground in ten minutes.”

  Dave motioned to the seats in the back of the plane and led Bella toward them while Neeta followed, almost in a daze.

  In her mind raced all manner of thoughts and worries, but she couldn’t help but wonder why in the world she was suddenly haunted by Burt’s image.

  ###

  “Neeta, you just don’t understand,” Dave noted emphatically. “It can’t be done. At this stage, Earth is done for, and unless we can get ourselves and the graphene I’ve collected up to the Moon, we’re screwed.”

  The plane began its descent as Neeta’s frustration rose. Dave had that stubborn expression that told her he’d settled something in his mind, but this time, she wasn’t about to accept it. “Damn it, Dave! Why are you saying that? I can guarantee you that the president will write any check and do anything to save everyone. She just needs your help, can’t you understand that?”