EXOSKELETON II: Tympanum

by Shane Stadler

  “You are their only hope.”

  “What hope?” Will asked. “We are doomed.”

  “There would have been someone else within three years,” Landau said. “The orb would have been activated.”

  “Cho – the Chinese?”

  “Yes.”

  “But we’re taking down their program.”

  “It is too late.”

  “So what does it matter who pulled the switch?” Will asked. “The answer to the question would have been the same – sealing our own demise. ”

  “The judgment is justified,” Landau said. “But is not a punishment at all. It is a demonstration of compassion.”

  “What?”

  “Can you imagine what the world would be like if others had your powers?”

  Will could only envision violence on a scale never seen before.

  “If a species is allowed to continue once it has transformed, unless it occurred through enlightenment, it will consume itself,” Landau said. “It is indisputable. I have witnessed it.”

  “When will it happen – the regeneration?” Will asked.

  “I cannot say,” Landau said. “But there is still something that can be done.”

  “What – how?”

  “By not taking the Judge’s offer to save yourself, you have won the possibility for a reprieve of sorts,” Landau said. “I knew you wouldn’t take the bribe. That’s why I selected you.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me before it happened?”

  “It had to come from you,” Landau replied. “And the Judge would have known – he took your memories. I also knew you would recognize the opportunity to acquire the Judge’s memories.”

  “I remember nothing from that,” Will said, although he knew something had to be there after he’d read the White Stone.

  “It might seem inaccessible, but it is in your mind.”

  “What do you mean a reprieve ‘of sorts’?”

  “You can still avert destruction,” Landau said, “and replace it with individual judgment.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Your actions in the orb have opened this possibility,” Landau explained. “It illustrates that there might be some worth saving in your world – worth an individual look, so to speak.”

  “What about my actions on the Chinese ship” Will said, “what does that illustrate? I’ve killed many.”

  “You, too, will be judged,” Landau replied. “If you earn that privilege.”

  “How can individuals be judged? On what information – evidence?”

  “The imprint of a soul tells all,” Landau explained. “It reveals everything from context to intention for every instant of a soul’s existence. The Judge will see everything, and make a verdict.”

  “I will fail.”

  “Perhaps,” Landau said. “Perhaps not. But it is worth your effort – for those who do not deserve a blanket judgment.”

  “What do I need to do?” Will asked with great anxiety.

  “I cannot say,” Landau said. “But I truly hope you find the way.”

  With that, Landau shot into the sky like a shooting star.

  Will went back to his body and awakened next to Denise.

  “How long was I out?” he asked.

  “A minute,” she said. “You look spooked. What did you see?”

  He stood. “Please, let’s go,” he said and glanced towards the cemetery. He felt them staring at him.

  “What happened?”

  “Later,” he said. “Please, let’s go.”

  He grabbed her hand and took her away with him.

  2

  Friday, 19 June (5:10 p.m. CST)

  Will awakened from what was supposed to be a short nap. He’d apparently been more exhausted than he’d thought after his encounter in the cemetery. It was just after 5 p.m., and he assumed Denise was still in the exercise room. He put on his swimming trunks and headed for the pool.

  Seeing Landau notwithstanding, at some level he’d known what he was going to find in the cemetery. Perhaps that intuition originated from the imprinted memory he’d stolen from the Judge. The Judge’s memory seemed to come through in his dreams, which had become more bizarre than anything he’d ever experienced. In the latest one, he dreamt he’d been stranded in a desert and, when he looked to the sky, it was clear he wasn’t on Earth. In another, he’d fallen out of an aircraft into the night, and landed in the water near a small island. Most had elements of panic and doom, feelings that wouldn’t fade until he’d been awake for hours.

  He grabbed a towel and made his way to the pool. He took a quick dive into the deep end, and floated on his back and paddled lightly with his eyes closed, letting the final sliver of the late afternoon sun saturate his vision through his eyelids. It was an escape, if only for a second, to a place where he had no worries.

  A few minutes later, the snapping sound of flip-flops came from behind him and got louder. He looked up to see Denise heading his way from the clubhouse. She put her things on a chair, sat on the edge of the pool, and dangled her feet in the water.

  “It’s nice,” she said. “How long have you been here?”

  “Just got in,” he replied. “Getting hungry?” He wanted to talk about what he’d seen in the cemetery, but decided to postpone that conversation until they’d picked up Jonathan from the airport.

  “Starved, but let’s relax for a few minutes,” she said. “I want to try out the pool and hot tub.”

  “How about the pool now, and the hot tub after dinner when it’s a bit cooler?”

  “Sounds great,” she said and stood. She removed her shorts and shirt, revealing a green, one-piece swimsuit. She tied her dark hair into a tight ponytail, which hung to the middle of her back. She was thin and fit, and her smile completed the image.

  She made eye contact with him. “What?” she asked.

  “Brains and beauty,” he said, and smiled.

  She jumped in and met him in the deep end. She had to paddle to keep her head above water. “You’re not too bad yourself,” she replied, and put her hands around his neck.

  He started to say something but she stopped his lips with her own. After a few seconds she stopped and smiled at him. “I wanted to do that long ago.”

  “Me too,” he said. He’d thought about it a lot when he left Chicago, and had decided that her safety was more important that developing a relationship with her. But things had changed. For the most part, the immediate danger of Syncorp and foreign operatives had subsided. A more devastating threat loomed in the near future, but affected everyone equally. Their time together might be short, so he decided to make the best of it.

  She put her legs around his waist, hugged his neck tightly, and pressed her cheek against his. “Time to pick up Jonathan,” she said, letting go and swimming for the edge.

  He grabbed her ankle before she could get away, and pulled her back.

  She yelped.

  He let her go, only to grab her ankle again.

  “I can’t touch bottom here!” she yelled, laughing.

  He let her kick herself free and then followed her to the edge. They got out, dried off, and collected their things. They went up to the apartment, showered, changed, and headed to the airport.

  Jonathan’s flight was late, and it was almost 8 p.m. by the time they departed Baton Rouge airport and headed back to the city. All were famished, and Will’s suggestion of Cajun food was met with unanimous agreement.

  He took them to a popular restaurant, just a few doors down from the Bullfrog, the bar that had been frequented by the gang of former Compressed Punishment inmates. He still wondered what exactly had happened to those men, and he felt guilty that he’d likely contributed to their demise by turning them in to the FBI. Roy was probably the leak from that side, and he was satisfied that the traitor had gotten what he’d deserved, along with Natalie Tate. He was ashamed, however, that he’d been the one to carry it out.

  Jonathan informed him that Cho had died on
the deck of the Chinese carrier. Will already knew. It was a killing he found difficult to regret. The man who’d killed Adler, and who was likely responsible for the massacre of the CP men, was identified as Lenny Butrolsky, a notorious Syncorp thug and former KGB assassin. It was the same man Jonathan had shot in shoulder in a hospital in southern Illinois. The animal was nowhere to be found.

  There was a 30 minute wait to get a table, so Will got drinks for the three of them. When he returned, Jonathan and Denise were chatting on an outdoor bench under a pergola, adjacent to the restaurant bar. He handed them their drinks and leaned against a railing next to Denise. The stars peeked out of the purple eastern sky, and the cool breeze was sweet with the spicy aromas of Cajun cuisine. He breathed in deeply and sighed. It seemed odd to be back in normal life after what they’d been through.

  “Tell us what you saw in the cemetery,” Denise said.

  Jonathan raised an eyebrow and looked at Will.

  “Something has changed,” he said, glancing back and forth between the two of them. “It seems they’ve all come back.”

  “Who has come back?” Jonathan asked.

  “The people buried there – everyone who has died,” Will responded.

  Denise’s dark complexion turned pale. “The dead are returning?”

  Will nodded. “Seems so. But I want to check out some other places. Another cemetery. Think about how many billions of people have lived and died on earth.”

  “Why are they here?” Denise asked, visibly shaking now.

  “Awaiting the outcome,” Will said. “If we’d been judged positively, this would all be over. If I hadn’t pulled that switch, this wouldn’t be happening at all …”

  “If it wasn’t you, it would’ve been someone else – eventually,” Jonathan said.

  Will knew that to be true – according to Landau.

  “Do you think the judgment would have been different 100 years from now?” Jonathan continued. “Maybe we’d be the souls coming back awaiting punishment, but it would be in the hands of someone else. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather be around to do something about it.”

  “Your pocket sounds like it’s vibrating,” Denise said and pointed to Will’s shirt.

  He hadn’t had a phone call in weeks, and had only been carrying the phone by habit – it was a burner phone. He hadn’t given out the number to anyone except Natalie Tate, and she was dead. He looked at the number; it wasn’t one he recognized but he knew the 202 area code – Washington, DC. He answered.

  “Dr. Thompson?” a man said.

  Will recognized the voice as that of Daniel Parsons.

  “Daniel?” Will replied. His heart twisted in his chest. News was coming.

  “We need you to come to DC immediately,” Daniel said. “Tickets are waiting for you at Baton Rouge airport under your alias. You still have your alias passport?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” Daniel replied. “Your flight leaves in 90 minutes.”

  Will hung up and looked at the clock. His stomach burned with hunger. He’d explain everything Landau had told him to Denise and Jonathan as they ate.

  3

  Saturday, 20 June (1:22 a.m. EST – Washington)

  Will met Daniel at the ground transportation area of Reagan International Airport around 1:30 a.m. They drove to a large, nondescript building in a business district outside of Alexandria, Virginia. Daniel hadn’t given him any specific information during the 30 minute car ride.

  After going through a maze of security like he’d never seen before, they arrived at large, comfortably furnished room a little after 2:15 a.m. Sylvia and a man Will recognized but couldn’t place sat on leather furniture surrounding a coffee table.

  “I’d like you to meet James Thackett, Director of CIA,” Daniel said to Will.

  Thackett stood and held out his hand. “William Thompson,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  As they shook hands, Will wished he could say the same in return, but his distrust of the CIA superseded any niceties he could conjure. It had taken him a while to tolerate Sylvia and Daniel.

  “Please, sit, pour yourself some coffee,” Thackett said. “We have a lot to discuss.” He turned to Daniel. “Get it started.”

  Daniel’s eyes focused on Will, implying the others already knew what was coming. Sylvia looked sick – even more pale than usual – revealing the tone of what he was about to hear.

  “We don’t have many details,” he began. “But we got a signal.”

  Will remained silent.

  “Radio waves,” Daniel explained. “The signal appears in the center of the AM band – it can be heard between 1140 and 1150 on AM radio around the world. The frequency of the amplitude modulation is around 1000 Hertz – highly pitched to our naked ears, but detectable.”

  “So it should be easy to locate,” Will said. “Land based?”

  Daniel and Sylvia glanced at each other.

  Daniel continued. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

  Will looked back and forth between Sylvia and Daniel. Thackett looked into his coffee mug, waiting for Daniel to deliver the punch line.

  “What?” Will asked. “What am I missing?”

  “It’s coming from Mars,” Sylvia finally blurted out.

  “Actually,” Daniel added, “that’s the origin of the closest one. We’ve detected three so far, the other two are from empty space – unknown sources – beyond the solar system.”

  It took Will a few seconds to process the statement. His mind went into overdrive following multiple threads of possible consequences. It all boiled down to one thing.

  “Signaling us?” Will asked. “Or someone else?”

  “We don’t know,” Daniel replied, shaking his head. “But we think it’s another countdown – the frequency is shifting.”

  “How long do we have?” Will asked, worried about what he was going to hear next.

  “A little more than four years,” Sylvia said.

  “And you’re going to try to send someone there?” Will said.

  Everyone was quiet, but kept their eyes on Will. Thackett finally broke the silence. “Possibly to the closest one – Mars.”

  Thackett’s face still seemed distorted, and then Will understood. “You’re going to send me.”

  Thackett nodded. “It’s too early to tell, but yes.”

  “Can we even do that?” Will asked. “We don’t even have a manned space program. We can’t even get to the moon.”

  “We’ve already spoken with the President,” Thackett said. “NASA is about to be the most highly funded agency of the U.S. government.”

  Will shook his head. “Is there enough time?” he asked. “It takes three to four months at best, and that’s expending a lot of fuel.”

  “That’s out of our area of expertise,” Daniel said.

  “NASA is working up a plan,” Thackett added.

  Daniel pulled out a laptop and started it. “A European Space Agency satellite currently orbiting Mars was able to locate the probe and take a picture.” He tapped on the keyboard, set the computer on the coffee table, and turned it towards Will.

  Will pulled it closer and looked at the reddish image. It was fuzzy, but recognizable. There was a white object that resembled a water tower protruding from the red surface, near one of the poles. He nodded and pushed the computer away. “Looks like the others,” he said. If it were sending out a signal to initiate an event, or to attract something, it would have to be deactivated. And, based on the construction of the other probes, only he could do such a thing.

  “We need to protect you,” Daniel said. “Whatever we’re able to accomplish regarding a Mars mission will be for naught if you’re not the one going.”

  “And you’re existence is not a secret,” Sylvia added. “Any country that’s suspicious of our motives, or wants to get there themselves, will try to acquire you.”

  Or kill me, Will thought.

  “Not to mention the lunatics that will
want to hold the entire world hostage,” Thackett said. “Kidnap you and threaten to kill you unless they get what they want.”

  “And there are some that just want the world to end,” Sylvia said. “They’ll to want to kill you just to make sure it happens.”

  It was clear that they’d thought about it. “How do we proceed?” Will asked.

  Thackett cleared his throat. “We’re going to need you to stay with us from this point forward.”

  “With CIA?” Will asked. “You realize that they – you – are responsible for everything. You made me.”

  “We understand your problems with the CIA,” Daniel interrupted.

  “I wasn’t the CIA director when Red Wraith was active,” Thackett said in his defense. “I had no idea what was going on when I started here. You’ll be with the Omniscient group, and answer only to me. I will personally be responsible for you.”

  “You’ll eventually need astronaut training,” Daniel added. “But that won’t start until two years out, unless they need you for something specific.”

  “I want Denise Walker and Jonathan McDougal with me,” Will said.

  “You can have whatever you want,” Thackett said. “We can’t force them, but we’ll make them a good offer.”

  “It might be hard to drag Jonathan away from the DNA Foundation,” Sylvia added.

  Will thought otherwise; Jonathan would be in with both feet. Too much was at stake, and he was there to witness the origin of it all. He’d see it through, as would Denise.

  “Then I’m in,” Will said. “What do I do now?”

  “You can start by giving me your mobile phone,” Thackett said, holding out his hand.

  Will pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to him.

  Thackett took it and removed the battery and the chip. He then reached in his own pocket and handed Will a flat black phone. “This is the most secure device we have,” Thackett said. “Our numbers are programmed in, as are Denise’s and Jonathan’s.”

  An electronic beeping sound emanated from Will’s right. He looked at Thackett, and then to Daniel and Sylvia. They all looked confused.