“ATMs all over the world are going crazy,” Eva said. “Our guys say it’s the virus. It’s attacking banks, police departments, corporations, power grids, even our own network. Stu says the main studio is still operating on generator power, but with the virus attacking master control and transmission towers—”
“Dios, chica.” Allie’s eyes remained glued to the video. “This is awful. It’s out-and-out anarchy.”
“The governor’s called in the National Guard, but they’re totally outnumbered. Stu says we should keep reporting as long as possible, even though he’s guessing nobody’s watching.”
SUNDAY, APRIL 30 (10:52 P.M. PACIFIC DAYLIGHT TIME)
ESTIMATED TIME TO IMPACT: 27 HOURS 56 MINUTES
Allie and Calder were feverishly working on the supersonic booster when Eva stormed up to them.
“Guys! They’re saying Hero’s coming, she’s coming!”
Together, they sprinted to the beach, halted at water’s edge, and scanned the night sky.
“Over there!” Allie said, pointing at a moving asterism just above the northern horizon. “You see the little red and green lights?”
Gradually, the small lights resolved themselves into a twin-rotor military transport helicopter that looked like a giant grasshopper.
She stared at it hard.
A Chinook.
Eva, standing next to her, leaned in. “You sure you won’t change your mind?”
Allie gritted her teeth.
Eva and Stu were pressuring her to document the story of Hero’s disappearance, but so far she’d steadfastly refused—reminding them of her promise to the president. Now that live broadcasting was no longer feasible, however, Allie wondered if it would be ethical to record events for later use.
It was a close call.
“Okay, chica, go ahead. But strictly on the QT, understood?”
“Absolutely,” Eva said, dashing away. “Trust me.”
The massive chopper steadily approached until it was near enough for Allie to make out the lifeless payload hanging on steel cables from its vast belly.
Allie’s hand flew to her mouth; Hero’s exterior was badly charred.
Oh, lord, it’s over.
What now??
At last, the Chinook gained a position directly above the pier, where it hovered for a moment, and then slowly began descending. The turbulence caused by its rotors sent many in the vicinity fleeing for cover. She and Calder, buffeted by the powerful downwash, stood their ground, clinging to one another. The tips of her long hair, tossing about violently, whipped against her face and stung.
The Chinook gently lowered the embattled-looking craft onto the water, and then released her from the cabling. Calder, fully clothed, stormed the surf. Others followed him and together they lashed Hero to the pier.
Calder heaved himself onto the wooden platform and, soaking wet, fell to his knees. He stared at Hero, then began stroking her scorched hull.
Allie wanted to race to his side but didn’t, realizing with some jealousy that he needed to be alone. Everyone else stayed away as well.
The unburdened Chinook rose and quickly departed. Allie could feel it: a mood of desolation overtook the beach. Groaning sounds from diesel generators powering high-wattage work lamps around the pier filled the painted night air.
It’s like a wake.
She and everyone on the beach watched Calder in anxious, reverential silence as he inspected the blackened vehicle from stem to stern. She held her breath when he opened the bubble-shaped windshield and climbed inside.
Minutes later he poked his head above the cockpit opening and, with a small wave of the hand, beckoned in her direction.
She looked about to see who exactly he was calling for. Seeing no one immediately around her, she pointed to herself and he nodded.
When she gained the pier and was close enough to see his face, she was certain he’d been crying. “Calder, I’m so sorry.”
But as she approached more closely, his lips slowly curled into the smallest hint of a smile.
“I told you she was indestructible,” he said.
SUNDAY, APRIL 30 (11:14 P.M. PACIFIC DAYLIGHT TIME)
ESTIMATED TIME TO IMPACT: 27 HOURS 34 MINUTES
Calder supervised a fast-moving detail of military volunteers who quickly transferred Hero back into the lab and onto the lift. As soon as they were out of the way, he went right to work.
Most of Hero’s hardware had survived the conflagration, which didn’t surprise him. She was built to withstand the atom-bomb-like stresses caused by the Q-thruster’s propulsion system. But her software was totally corrupted. Getting it debugged in time would be one of the biggest challenges of all.
He had just started the repairs when Allie showed up with her camera crew. “Calder, you don’t mind, do you?”
He checked his impulse to lash out, recalling their amazing kiss earlier that evening. “Go ahead,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Just don’t get in the way, please.”
SUNDAY, APRIL 30 (11:31 P.M. PACIFIC DAYLIGHT TIME)
ESTIMATED TIME TO IMPACT: 27 HOURS 17 MINUTES
“Hey, Lois Lane!”
She turned and saw Mike Cannatella marching into the lab—as always, the personification of cool, calm, and in charge. “Keep shooting without me,” she said to Eva.
She rushed to Mike and they embraced. His cologne had a strong, sweet fragrance, which she found reassuring somehow.
“Can we talk?” he said, looking to his right and left.
“Sure.”
“Somewhere private.”
She led him to a corner of the lab, next to the reverb chamber.
“It’s about Hero,” he said quickly. “What we found inside of her.”
“Yeah?” She was feeling warm suddenly. “On the record or off?”
“Eventually, on. But right now, off.”
“Go ahead.”
“We found Hero pretty quickly. Compared to everything else on the water, her thermal signature stuck out like Rudolph’s red nose. It’s too bad we didn’t get to her before. . . .” He looked away.
“Before what?” she said. “All I was told is she accidentally ran into an off-shore oil rig up north.”
“Allie, it wasn’t an accident. Hero was stolen. By Jared Kilroy.”
It took a moment for her mind to comprehend. “Kilroy?”
He nodded. “We found him dead inside the cockpit. But not cremated, the ship protected him from that—suffocated. The fire sucked up all the oxygen. You could see on his face how terrified he was at the end. Creepy.”
She opened her mouth to speak.
“And that’s not all,” he went on. “Earlier today we arrested someone—a black bloc anarchist—who says a rich, anonymous mastermind ordered him to arrange the attacks on the protesters last night. When we recovered Kilroy’s cell phone from inside Hero, it matched the phone number we got from the anarchist.”
Her eyes widened. “But it makes no sense!” She began pacing, winding a strand of her hair into the shape of a Twizzler. “Kilroy was into computers, not protests. In fact, Eva—”
“That’s the even worse news.” Mike looked around distrustfully. “Allie, he’s responsible for a major computer virus that just went off a few hours ago.”
She stopped. “That’s what I was going to tell you. Our IT guys discovered the Quantum chip was rigged—like a time bomb.”
Mike stared at her. “You know already?”
“Yeah, I just found out from Eva.”
“I just found out myself too. For weeks our lab guys have been checking out the chip because the bureau was thinking it could boost the speed and accuracy of our fingerprint ID system, big time. A little over two hours ago, right at midnight eastern time, they noticed the chip suddenly changing behavior—all on its own. It wasn’t plugged into a computer or the Internet or anything, just wired to a closed-circuit diagnostics set-up.
“They said it was like watching a monster storming out of a cave.
The virus prowled around the circuitry looking for something, anything, to attach itself to. When it couldn’t find a way out of the chip, it turned on itself.”
She made a face. “Ugh.”
“But there’s more. As they were watching the virus, something about it seemed familiar. That’s when they made the connection—realized the behavior of the virus was the mirror image of the antiviral program on those CDs Anonymous handed out.”
“Dios! So Kilroy was—”
“Yes. Kilroy was the masked man. We’re pretty confident that when we compare voice prints, we’ll get a match.”
She looked sightlessly at Mike, her mind going a mile a minute. “Eva just showed me video of San Diego. The virus is making ATM machines—”
Wait!
Calder!
“Oh, my gosh!”
Mike looked confused. “What?”
She locked eyes on him. “Mike! Can you get me a copy of that CD? The one with the antivirus?”
“Of course, but why?”
“I’ll explain later.” She started away and without looking back shouted, “Please, just get it here. Right away!”
CHAPTER 43
ON STAGE
MONDAY, MAY 1 (7:45 A.M. PACIFIC DAYLIGHT TIME)
NAVAL BASE POINT LOMA; SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA
ESTIMATED TIME TO IMPACT: 19 HOURS 3 MINUTES
Having been up all night, everyone in the lab, she included, was moving and moping about like zombies, waiting for Calder to finish. Expressing hope he’d finish soon.
Allie massaged her temples and squeezed her burning eyes shut. She’d been able to provide the fix for Hero’s infected Quantum chip—the antivirus program on the CD—but not much else. Throughout the ordeal, neither Hero’s complex inner workings nor Calder’s loner temperament allowed anyone even to get close to the vehicle.
“All set.”
The quiet words from behind made her eyes fly open. Whipping around, she saw Calder staring at her, his sky-blue eyes tired but alert.
“Really?” she said in a hoarse whisper. She cleared her throat. “All set?”
He nodded and then turned to leave.
“I really want to go with you,” she called after him. “Please?”
He stopped and looked over his shoulder, his expression hard as Hero’s hull. “For the last time, no,” he growled. Then he stomped away.
The news of Calder and Hero’s readiness spread rapidly throughout the facility, its effect on everyone as bracing as a cup of strong coffee.
Eva ran up to Allie, her salt-and-pepper hair a tangled mess. “I just gave Stu the heads up. Pitsy’s firing up the lights. Let’s go!”
They rushed away together, Allie’s hands instinctively pampering her hair. She laughed at herself.
Vanity, vanity, all is vanity.
Once outside, she paused to drink in the cool sea air. The golden light of the rising sun—its flaming orb now encircled by a broad, diaphanous, orange-red annulus—co-mingled strangely with the garish primary colors of the worsening aurora. It gave her the impression of living inside a giant prism.
Hearing a loud, grating sound, she turned and saw the hangar’s tall doors gradually parting. A moment later a large, heavy tow truck bearing Hero emerged from inside the lab and rolled slowly through the widening maw.
Hero’s ceramic-alloy hull was no longer a glossy, fire-engine red. Instead, it was scarred and mottled, like the heat shield of a spaceship after careening through the atmosphere.
“Allie!” Eva shouted.
“Coming!”
They were going through the motions of normal TV reporting, even though it was unlikely many people were able to watch. Overnight the Quantum virus had felled power plants the world over, and then turned them back on again, only to dupe their faltering computerized governing systems into thinking they needed to crank up the output. The result were scores of overloaded, blown transformers. The only electricity available now was from generators.
Virtually all electronic devices connected to the Web—computers, TVs, smartphones, you name it—were laid low by the virus. Nevertheless, Allie believed that even if by some miracle only one viewer was able to watch her live broadcasts, it was worth the effort.
Eva dashed up to her. “How much do you love me?”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“It’s your buddy, the prez. He’s just ordered your broadcasts to be carried over the EAS.”
“The Emergency Alert System? Seriously? But that’s only—”
“Yeah, I know. You’ve just been designated the nation’s one and only pool reporter, Babycakes.”
Pool reporter. It meant she was now representing the world’s entire press corps!
Eva added, “You’re sure you don’t want to ask Calder again? Just once more?”
Allie shook her head emphatically. “No! He wants to go solo. Let it be.”
“I just thought that if he knew about the EAS, he would—”
Allie stomped her foot. “Chica! A punto! Let it go. No!”
Calder, inside the lab’s locker room, was hurriedly suiting up when a well-dressed young man rushed up with a smartphone in hand.
“Dr. Sinclair, sir! The president wishes to speak with you. He’s on a secure line but doesn’t know how long it’ll hold up.”
Calder took the phone, trying to recall how one properly addressed the president of the United States.
“Hello?”
“Dr. Sinclair, I know you’ve got your hands full right now and I don’t wish to hold you up. But you have an important mission ahead of you.”
“Yes, sir, I know.”
“Have you been given everything you need? Are you all set?”
“Yes, sir. People have been very helpful. I appreciate it, thank you.”
“When you get back, I’d like you and your family to visit Martha and me at the White House. In the meantime you’ll have our prayers. I only hope you can get to the holes before it’s too late. So much is at stake, not just for our country, but the world.”
“Yes, sir.”
Calder felt honored to be talking to the president, grateful for the man’s thoughtfulness and humanity, sensitive to the awful burden he carried. But he just wanted to get going.
“Well, then, Dr. Sinclair, I’ll let you go now.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I’ll do everything I can.”
“Thank you, Dr. Sinclair. Remember, we’ll see you at the White House when you return. God bless you.”
Calder hung up and rushed to finish dressing, going over the final plan in his mind. Because of the time crunch, he’d been forced to come up with a strategy for fixing all the holes in one fell swoop. It was a long shot, for sure, but the only one they had left.
Grabbing his helmet, he rushed off.
At the door he paused.
Am I just being stubborn?
Allie had proven herself flight worthy throughout the rescue mission.
No, too dangerous.
He and Hero would be hurtling into the heart of the CME storm at supersonic speeds, using a booster never before test-flown.
A suicide mission.
He dared not risk inflicting his jinxed fate on her.
But then maybe, just maybe, it’d work the other way around.
She does seem to have an in with her God.
Allie kicked off her live broadcast by introducing Dallan. The signal from the SWPC was fuzzy and unstable. On the giant screen behind him, he explained, was live video of the onrushing CME.
DO: “These images are from the latest generation Advanced Composition Explorer satellite.”
They showed a vast, roiling, incandescent orange cloud of radiation bristling with flashes of bright blue and green light and shot through with thin, crooked, yellowish filaments that resembled the skeletal fingers of some grasping beast.
AA: “Pretty scary looking.”
DO: Yes . . . it is. The main cloud is now about twenty-five million miles across and t
wo million degrees Celsius on the surface—about three-and-a-half million degrees Fahrenheit.
AA: And where is it, exactly?”
DO: “It’s less than twenty-four million miles away and still averaging about 1.3 million miles per hour. At that rate we expect contact in fewer than nineteen hours.”
AA: “In the past few days we’ve talked a lot about the CME’s impact and what we can do to protect ourselves. My question this morning is: Has there ever been a CME this powerful before? If so, why haven’t we heard about it?”
DO: “Great question, Allie. The largest CME ever recorded was the so-called Carrington Event in 1859. It was gigantic. In modern terms it had the destructive power of twenty Katrina-sized hurricanes. But it didn’t create a lot of damage because the world wasn’t electrified and computerized the way it is today. The worst that happened back then was telegraph lines went down. “According to the National Academy of Sciences, today that same Carrington Event could easily cause trillions of dollars in damage and take years to clean up.”
AA: “Yeow. And how does the CME we’re facing compare to that Carrington Event?”
Dallan hesitated for a moment.
DO: “It’s about ten times more powerful, which is mind-boggling, I know. Even I can’t wrap my head around it, and I do this for a living.”
AA: “But Dr. O’Malley, wait a minute. In the face of—”
DO: “Oh, and Allie, don’t forget: those damage estimates I just gave you assume a normal, intact magnetic field. The holes will make things even worse. It’s scary, but those are the hard facts. We’re dealing with a mind-boggling phenomenon here, not just some hurricane or flood.”
AA: “That’s just what I was about to say. In the face of that kind of destructive power, people watching might be saying, ‘What in the world can I possibly do about it?’ So can we go over those survival tips once again?”
On the screen appeared a checklist titled, “How to Survive the CME.”
The Null Prophecy Page 28
