by Dennis Elder
“Electronics will be tough to beat,” thought Ivan to himself. If he was going to get out of this prison early he knew he was going to have to do it electronically. Unfortunately, this was not one of Ivan’s strengths.
Chapter 6: Cat’s don’t dig holes
Mark parked the big Econoline van in one of the parking stalls outside the three story Hotel where they were staying. They had finally arrived after their delayed ride on the 405 freeway. Tyrone was driving the second van and pulled up next to Mark’s right. Both men put their vans in park and turned off the engines. Their windows were already down.
Boon got out of Mark’s van with a backpack. He stood facing Mark through the van’s passenger window.
“I’ll make sure the rooms are set and join you guys at the convention center as soon as I can,” said Boon.
“You want us to wait for you?” asked Mark.
“No. It’s only three blocks to the center. I’ll walk and catch up to you guys in 30 minutes. Later,” finished Boon as he turned and headed to the Hotel’s main entrance.
Tyrone had a toothpick in his mouth. He turned toward Mark and shouted, “You want us to stay here?”
“No,” Mark barked back. “We’re at least four hours behind schedule already. If we don’t all pitch in on setting up the display, we’ll be up all night. And I get crabby when I don’t’ get my beauty sleep.”
Once he completed his sentence he started his van and reached for the transmission control lever. When he looked back over his left shoulder he stopped short.
What the….” said Mark, looking to his immediate left. He leaned out the window and squinted to improve his eyesight.
One of LAs many elevated freeways was only a hundred yards to Mark’s left and ran parallel to the vans. Mark had a clear view of the graded slope leading up to the freeway’s surface. On the hill of the dirt slope Mark saw three household cats vigorously digging holes directly into the hillside.
When the van didn’t move for a few seconds Jake lifted his head from a serious video game an asked, “What’s wrong.”
Mark didn’t replay immediately. He kept his head and eyes fixed on the cats digging on the hill and shook his head instinctively before saying, “Since when do kitty cats dig holes?”
That certainly got Jake’s attention, so he looked up and then toward the general area Mark was staring.
There they were, three cats working hard to dig holes directly into the slope of the hill.
But Junior Taylor didn’t look. He continued to read his book and coolly said, “They don’t. At least domesticated cats don’t. The only known cat that live underground is the sand cat, Felis margarita, lives in Northern Africa and Eastern Europe.”
“Then those must be some possessed sand cats brother,” added Jake as he continued to check out the cats. “Cause they’re diggin like their ain’t no tomorrow.”
That brought Junior’s nose out of his book and he looked over at the three cats on the hill.
A few moments went by before Junior commented.
“Strange,” he said.
Tyrone suddenly broke the silence from the other van.
“Hey.” Barked Tyrone.
Everyone was startled and looked in Tyrone’s direction.
“We stayin or goin?” questioned Tyrone.
Mark turned back to his van’s transmission van lever, put it in reverse and said, “We’re goin!”
Both drivers checked behind them before they backed out and turned their vehicles toward the Anaheim Convention center.
Junior kept his eyes on the three cats as they drove past. He was close enough now to see their detail.
“Those aren’t Sand Cats,” observed Junior.
“Well whatever they are, they are digging fools,” responded Jake as he turned his attention back toward his video game.
As the vans headed for the convention center they drove under the freeway overpass. Dr. Edward Martin, Innovative Combat’s resident physician and CoagQuick patent holder happened to look up and out his window as they passed under the freeway’s massive support structure. He noticed a huge flock of birds trying to find a perch up under the concrete support beams. It was almost comical as Dr. Martin looked on. There was far too little space on those freeway supports for all the birds that were trying to find a place to land up there. For every bird that made it, a couple of others would get bumped off and then fly around frantically trying to get back on the same ledges. And they were everywhere, maybe thousands of them.
But what was really strange was there were all kinds of bird species mixed together – pigeons, next to sparrows, and he was pretty sure there we’re a few sea gulls up there too. He’d never seen that before.
“Now that’s not something one sees every day,” offered Dr. Martin.
“What’s that Doc?” asked Randy Phillips, Innovative’s best weapons expert, just as they left the underpass and drove back into the smoggy sunlight.
“Nothing I guess,” said Dr. Martin. “Probably nothing.”
Chapter 7: Crossing the lines
Dr. Kevin Phillips was still sound asleep in his Nipton apartment. He’d hoped to get a nap in before coming back to work at 8 pm.
Four miles away, over at the NOAA’s space weather center, Marylin Stanza paused her computer movie and used the mouse to expand the window that kept a 24-hour watch on the Sun’s surface. There were always three employees on watch at the center. Each of them gazed intently as real time video of the Sun’s photosphere suddenly flashed, and a giant CME flew up and away from the surface. Marylin stood up and walked over to where her two co-workers were sitting.
“Ooooh,” remarked Marylin. “That was a big one.”
“I estimate over 124,000 miles high with a 36,000 mile base,” commented Chad Ramsey her co-worker. Then Chad logged a note on his yellow pad.
“But no threat to mother earth, right,” commented Lauren Robertson, Marylin’s friend and roommate.
“Nope, responded Chad. “It’s pointing away from earth.
Marylin noticed another flashing alarm on her computer monitor and moved back toward it.
“Hey, do you guys see the mag counter reading? That can’t be right,” said Marylin with some alarm in her voice.
But the other two kept looking at the big CME and were busy talking to each other and noting the multiple readings coming from their computer monitors.
Marylin slowly sat back down at her computer and focused on the magnetic field counter.
“That’s too high to be accurate,” Marylin said to herself as she switched the video imaging filters and brought up the mag level scope. Instantly the image of the large CME moving up and away from the Sun disappeared and was replaced with that looked like coiling lightning bolts. There were about thirty of the coils viewable on the monitor – with fifteen in each hemisphere of the Sun. Each coil started at the northern or southern pole of the Sun and stretched upwards for several thousand miles before plunging back down to reconnect at the Sun’s equator. The coils seemed unusually agitated and were twisting around a lot. At least it seemed like a lot more than any of the examples she had seen before.
“I’m not kidding, you guys should see this,” repeated Marilyn. Something is…”
But before she could finish her sentence the phone rang.
Chad picked it up immediately. The person on the other end of the phone asked a question. When he finished Chad responded.
“Yea, we saw it. Ah huh.”
The person on the other end of the phone was asking questions again.
“No there is absolutely no cause for alarm. The CME was definitely pointed away from Earth. No chance of any increased radiation,” Chad emphasized.
The person asked another question.
“Yea, we got it all on video. We’ll type up the report and send it over in about 20 minutes.” Chad answered.
Another phone question.
“OK, we’ll send the video file too.
Another comment
from the phone.
“OK, bye,” said Chad as he hung up the phone and turned back to the computer monitor in front of him.
“This is amazing,” commented Lauren as he watched the CME again.
“Yea, and we’re the ones who will get discovery credit for it too,” said Chad as he opened the standard report form and began typing. “OK, now read me back the total rad differentials?”
“You guys, please look at this,” pleaded Marylin. “These readings are very unusual.”
“You talking about the magnetic field fluxes?” commented Chad as he continued to type.
“Yes, they’re off the charts,” responded Marylin.
“Yea, but they never mean anything. Probably just a sign the 11-year cycle is finally ending,” quipped Chad.
“I don’t know,” said a worried Marylin. “Dr. Phillips should see this.”
“You mean Kevin,” replied Lauren as she smiled coyly at Marylin.
Marylin knew what Lauren was implying and couldn’t help but smile back a little.
“Dr. Phillips should see this,” re-emphasized Marylin in an attempt to erase her goofy smile and get back to business.
“I think you like him; I think you want to kiss him,” teased Lauren.
Marylin didn’t take the bait and instead turned back to the computer monitor.
“Look, these magnetic readings are important and I know he’d want to see them,” she said again as she switched on the video recorder from her own computer keyboard.
“Phillip’s magnetic field and Gamma ray theories are a crock,” said Chad. “Everyone knows Gamma ray photons are absorbed by the Sun’s plasma. By the time they get to the surface, their frequencies are all by eliminated.”
“And so now you’re an expert in Gamma Ray Bursts, Chad?” retorted Marylin sarcastically.
But Chad didn’t back down.
“Ooooo, watch out, make sure you don’t cross the beams,” Chad added with some extra sarcasm.
Most of Nipton’s personnel knew Dr. Phillips new Gamma ray burst theory was based on too many of the Sun’s magnetic lines getting crossed or twisted up.
But now it was Marylin’s turn to ignore him.
“At least we can record them,” she finished.
“No,” challenged Chad as he reached for a console switch. “We need to finish capturing this Coronal Mass Ejection event.”
But Marylin stopped him short.
“Don’t touch that. You’re recording the CME video on the primary system, right?” Marylin objected.
“Yea,” countered Chad. “But you know standard procedure is to use both recording systems to record a major event.
“Well I’m saying this here is also a major event and I’m recording it for Dr. Philips,” finalized Marylin in an open challenge to Chad.
After a loud snort and dirty look, Chad turned back to his report.
Marylin quickly double checked that the Magnetic readings were recording. Then she noticed Lauren flashing her a big teasing smile while silently and slowly mouthing the words, “Marylin loves Dr. Phillips,” while patting her heart like it was aching.
Marylin couldn’t help but crack a smile.
Chapter 8: No room at the Inn
Mark stood still for moment to catch his breath. He just pushed in the last of the large anvil cases his team was using for their mobile presentation station. All eight employees pulled their own weight on the set ups – and the more hands on deck the quicker they’d get it done.
But he didn’t need to encourage his team. They all knew their jobs. The main stage was his design. It looked a lot like a sideshow shooting gallery, but with a lot more technology. He hoped the novelty of the design would naturally draw conference attendees to it.
At the front edge of the gallery ten Bushmaster ARC assault rifles were ready for hands on demos. Each gun would be chained to the exhibit and equipped with their latest SmartScope. The eleventh gun was identical to the others but was also equipped with a wireless video feed that linked the scope to a HD projector and screen to the right of the gallery. Before anyone picked up a demo gun, Susie Jenkins would demonstrate the SmartScope’s latest features. Demonstrations were presented every two hours – every employee took a turn at the demos. In between each demonstration conference attendees would have time to pick up an ARC gun and try the scope. The team would stand next to the guns and answer questions. That was the plan.
Those who wanted to buy would be directed to the sales counter. They brought 200 of the scopes to the conference. Hopefully they’d sell out before the weekend was over. Better that than hauling them back to the company office.
“Have those credit cards ready,” thought Mark to himself.
Suddenly Mark was wrapped up in a bear like hug from behind and lifted clean off the convention room floor. Then he was dropped just as quickly. He spun around just in time to see a huge man sporting a bushy moustache and dressed like a cop.
“What the hell!” bellowed the policeman as he smiled and extended his hand.
It was Terry Sorensen. Terry had overseen security at the Afghanistan base commanded by Mark. But everyone knew him as Bear.
Mark reached out his hand offering Bear his best grip. But Bear’s hand was a paw and a half bigger than Mark’s. They embraced too, and then stood back.
“What’s it been, Bear, four years?” offered Mark.
“More like five, Major,” countered Bear.
“Just Mark now,” replied Mark as he pointed to the demonstration area behind him. “Just a civilian trying to earn a few dollars
“Yea, I read about your new scope,” grinned Bear as he looked over Mark’s shoulder and toward the demo area. “You gonna hold one out for your favorite MP,” begged Bear?
“Absolutely!” offered Mark.
Mark noticed Junior at the gun counter. It was obvious Junior needed to talk to Mark about the display. Mark pulled Bear over toward Junior and introduced him.
“Junior, I want you to meet a good friend of mine,” Mark said, and Bear offered his hand to Junior. “We were stationed together in Kandahar during my first command.”
“Hey Junior, how are you? Bear Sorenson’s my name. Local sheriff,” said Bear with a big smile on his face as he flicked the gold badge on his uniform.
“Junior Taylor,” responded Junior, as he shook Bear’s hand. “Nice meeting you.”
“Same here,” said Bear.
Bear then turned to Mark and Junior. “You guys staying close by?” Maybe we could get a steak or something after you get set up.”
But Boon Seteran suddenly appeared, interrupting the three men. Boon was slightly out of breath, after having had just walked to the convention center from the hotel where the team had left him 90 minutes earlier.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Boon offered to the threesome. Then he turned to Mark and said, “We got a problem boss,” said Boon.
“Sounds like business,” interjected Bear. “I’ll leave you guys to work out your problems. But I’ll check back with you later to see about that steak.
“OK, Bear,” offered Mark. “I’ll watch for you.”
After Bear turned to leave, Mark turned to Boon and said, “OK, what’s up?”
“There better not be a problem with my room,” bellowed Tyrone from behind the gun counter. He was screwing security chains into the counter and suspiciously watching for Boon’s reaction.
Tyrone’s comment attracted most of the other guys and everyone began moving toward Boon and Mark.
Boon took a deep breath and said, “We don’t have any rooms.”
“What!” cried Sam Watkins, the former intelligence officer. Sam did show his emotion very often.
“Yet!” emphasized Boon.
There were a few grumblings from the group and then Mark raised his hand to silence the group and turned back to Boon.
“Apparently the hotel double booked our rooms,” said Boon.
“But didn’t we have reservations?” asked Dr. Martin.<
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“Yes, with individual confirmation numbers,” countered Boon.
“Then why the mix up?” questioned Jake Oliver the company’s resident sarcasm expert.
