Angel thought about that for a moment, then said, “God is giving us a way out.”
All looked at her. Dean said, “Go ahead, Angel. Finish it.”
“Ourselves,” the girl said. “But I don’t think that’s all of it. I think He sent Sand to help us.”
“Or Michael,” Watts said with a smile. “The mercenary.
God’s bodyguard. And it would be like Sand to buddy up to him.”
“Kick ass and take names!” Howie yelled from his room. “That sounds like Sand.”
Watts grinned and shook his head. “Sand’s made another convert. Even dead, people still rally to him. In all my years, I never met a man like him.”
“I cannot believe,” Shriver said, “that in this entire town, we are the only ones He would choose to save. What’s so special about us?”
Someone rattled at the door, and cursing filled the air. Somewhere close, a man screamed in pain and a woman laughed.
“I don’t think God picked us at all,” Howie called. “I think we all chose to save ourselves. We might not have known exactly what we were doing at the time . . . from a religious point of view. But it worked out that way.”
“The priest was a man of God,” Hillary pointed out. “Yet he died horribly.”
“Perhaps he was not what he seemed,” Sunny told them. “Or perhaps that was his fate. Richard stressed fate several times when I spoke with him.”
“I’ve listened to a part of those tapes you made with Richard,” Gordie said. “There’s something in there that puzzles me. At one point, he said something like, ‘Don’t be afraid when this is over, for if you survive, you might see that it all happened in the blink of an eye.’ ”
“There’s lots about this I don’t understand,” Mack grumbled.
“Fury is coming!” Howie yelled.
They all felt the Fury’s presence. Stronger than ever. The air seemed charged with static.
I JUST HAD A LITTLE SNACK. IT WAS QUITE DELICIOUS. It burped and shotguns and pistols and ammunition clattered to the floor. Several badges shone amid the pile of weapons. THE INTELLIGENCE OF COPS HAS GREATLY IMPROVED SINCE MY LAST VISIT, I AM HAPPY TO REPORT.
“Why do you say that?” Watts asked. He had gotten over feeling like a fool for talking to empty air.
HOW QUICKLY THEY RESPONDED AFTER I DINED ON ONE OUTPOST, THAT’S WHAT I MEAN. COPS USED TO BE THE DUMBEST FUCKERS IN THE UNIVERSE.
Naturally, no one had anything to say to that. But all breathed a sigh of relief at the knowledge that the Fury did not know who had tipped the state patrol.
HOWIE, MY BOY, WHAT ARE YOU AND YOUR SISTER DOING ALL COOPED UP IN THAT LITTLE ROOM?
“Playing space games, sir,” Howie said.
ISN’T THAT SWEET? SHOOTING DOWN ALL THE BAD GUYS WITH YOUR LITTLE FLASH GORDON RAY GUNS. OH, I JUST LOVE IT. WELL, BYE ALL!
Howie stepped out, after checking to make sure the Fury had really left them. “It knows nothing of the advancement and technology over the past thirty years. Nothing at all. It would have said Luke Skywalker or Darth Vader or Captain Kirk or Spock. But it’s locked into the fifties.” He walked back into his computer room and sat down behind his terminals, typing.
Sand. What does all this mean? How can that knowledge help us?
The screen quickly flashed: That is something I cannot tell you, Howie. You have figured out why you survived thus far; it’s up to you to put the rest together.
You won’t help us?
I can’t.
I understand.
“I don’t,” Gordie spoke from behind the boy. “What do you mean, Howie – you understand?”
“Obviously, he is forbidden.”
The screen flashed, and words appeared. This could well be not the end, Howie, but the beginning.
Howie typed: Now I don’t understand.
Go forth.
The screen went dark, as if waiting.
“And spread the word,” Gordie whispered, and Howie typed.
One word appeared on the screen: Amen.
Megan LeMasters and Larry Adams had been briefed on the flight from Andrews to Stapleton Field in Denver. Since Megan professed to be an agnostic, and Larry an avowed atheist, both thought the situation – whatever it really was – amusing, as did Martin Tobias.
All three had a good laugh.
They stopped laughing over the matter, when they got to Willowdale and found the state patrol barricades had been moved even further out from the town.
“Why?” Martin asked.
“We lost six people to that . . . thing last night, sir,” a captain of state patrol told him. “Sheriff Rivera ordered us to pull back a half a mile.”
“What happened to your people, Captain?”
“They were dissolved, sir.”
Martin arched one eyeball in visible skepticism. Before he could pursue the dissolved bit, their conversation was halted by the arrival of news reporters, camera crews, and several bureau chiefs, from both coasts.
A microphone was stuck under the nose of Martin Tobias. “What is going on in Willowdale, Mr. Tobias? And why is the White House involved? And how?”
From behind the barricades, Gordie and Maj. Jackson, along with Norris and Bergman, leaned up against cars and watched and listened.
“We’re in for it now,” Bergman said. “And they’re playing right into the hands of the Fury.”
“Yeah,” Gordie glumly agreed. “That’s what the Fury wanted all along: modern knowledge. And that is something we cannot allow it to have.”
Gordie walked to the barricades, a riot gun in his hands. He faced the gathering crowd. “I’ll be very brief, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Sheriff Gordie Rivera, and I will personally shoot anybody who tries to cross these barricades.”
Martin turned to face the sheriff. “Do you know who I am, young man?”
“Yeah, I know who you are. And I don’t particularly give a damn. Captain,” he spoke to the patrolman. “Keep these people on your side of the barricades.”
“Gordie, I can’t shoot the president’s chief of staff, for Christ’s sake!”
“If you don’t shoot him, I will.”
“Why don’t you want us in there, Sheriff?” Megan asked.
“Get those reporters away from here, Captain,” Gordie said, ignoring Megan.
“Gordie, how?” the captain pleaded. “It’s a free country.”
Gordie turned to the men behind him, motioning them up to the barricades. “Gentlemen, you all know the situation. I wish to speak to the president’s man in private.”
He waited for the Fury to speak. When it did not, Gordie knew it would not – not yet. This was what it wanted: for him to look like a fool. It was not going to tip its hand to the outside world. Not yet.
“Shoot the first reporter that follows us along the barricades,” Gordie ordered his men. Bergman, Norris, and Jackson raised their shotguns. Reluctantly, very reluctantly, the state patrolmen followed suit.
“You wouldn’t dare!” a bureau chief hollered.
“The hell I won’t,” Bergman warned.
Cameras were recording it all.
“This is an outrage!” a reporter yelled. “I’ll see you in court for this, Sheriff.”
Gordie smiled, and Martin made a mental note of the smile. “For a fact, buddy, we are looking at some judgement.”
“You damn right.”
Martin walked away from the crowded barricades, motioning Gordie to follow him. Away from the others and with the barricades between them, Martin said, “Would you like to bring me up-to-date, Sheriff?”
“You’ll report to the president of the United States and not to the press?”
“That is correct. You have my word. I shall have nothing of substance to say to the press. I will have to make some sort of statement, certainly, but I am sure you are aware of any government officials’ ability to utilize double-talk.”
Gordie smiled at the man. “Oh, yes. I’ve used a bit of that myself, from time
to time.”
“No doubt.” Martin’s remark was offered drily, but softened with a returning smile.
Gordie spoke for several minutes, speaking quickly and as succinctly as possible, leveling totally with the president’s man.
Martin Tobias did not change expression, so Gordie did not know if the man believed what he was hearing, or thought him to be a raving nut.
When Gordie finished, Martin asked, “How many dead do you have, Sheriff?”
“At last count, over three hundred.”
“I knew it had to be a great many. The odor is, ah, pungent.”
“Very.”
“And you are convinced that this . . . problem is something supernatural?”
“Yes. I am fully convinced of that, sir. I was not at first. But when some invisible force picks you up, personally, and tosses you around a room. Well . . .”
“Yes. I get your point. That might convince me as well. And you really think that you are in contact with a dead man? This Sand person?”
“I know we are.”
“Very well. I see your dilemma, Sheriff. I really do. I’m not saying I believe all that you’ve told me. But I can see why you don’t want this story to be spread all over the world.”
“And . . . ?”
“I don’t know yet, Sheriff.”
“That’s an honest reply. Mr. Tobias, while we are talking over here, and have the attention of the press, one of my people has passed a box of videotapes of Sand’s story, several boxes of computer disks containing Howie’s work, and all the transmissions that have passed between . . . one world and the other, to a trooper. They have just been put in your car. Go back to your motel room and review them, sir. Then make up your mind.”
“Sheriff, even if they prove everything you’ve said to be true, that still leaves us with one hell of a big problem, doesn’t it?”
“Go on.”
Martin waved Megan and Larry over and very quickly laid out the problem. “Suggestions, people?” he asked. “And make it quick.”
“You’re buying this fairytale, sir?” Megan asked.
Gordie just about lost his cool. He just about reached over the barricades and slapped the piss out of her. He controlled himself with a visible effort, an effort that did not slip by Megan.
“Sheriff,” she quickly said. “I am not implying that you are lying. Not at all. I’m sorry, if you took it that way. What I am saying is, that you must be under a great deal of stress.”
“You can say that again, lady. If I wasn’t so concerned about your safety, and the safety and survival of the world, I’d ask you to bring your uppity ass in here and see for yourself.”
Martin’s smile was tiny. It vanished when Megan said, “I’d like that, Sheriff.”
“You’re a damn fool, lady,” Gordie told her.
“I should like to accompany her, sir,” Larry offered.
Martin looked at Gordie. “Sheriff?”
Gordie gripped the barricades. “Haven’t any of you been listening? Once you’re in here, you can’t get out! And this is what the Fury wants. He, it, whatever that thing is, must have more modern day knowledge before it makes its big move. That’s a guess. Guess or not, I’m trying to prevent that.”
“When is your term of office up, Sheriff?” Larry asked.
Gordie sighed, knowing what the man was implying. “I was elected by an overwhelming majority. I have good reason to believe I will be, or would be, unopposed in the next election. So that won’t hold water. People, listen to me: don’t you think Maj. Jackson and his team would leave if they could? Can’t you smell the stink of the dead? We’re going to have a major health hazard in here pretty damn quick. Do you think I’d risk the lives of Angel and Howie for personal gain? My God, what kind of a man do you think I am?”
Larry flushed and opened his mouth. “Sheriff, I did not mean to ...”
“Shut your goddamn mouth, pretty boy!” Gordie’s frayed temper broke. “Now you all listen to me. We’ve got to get the Fury, all of the Fury, in one spot, and it’s going to have to be coordinated right down to the last degree, and then it has to be destroyed. I’ve told you what will destroy it.” He placed several sheets of paper on the barricade. “That is the list of everyone in town – as far as we now know – still possessing their facilities; the adults and the two kids. Everything else is spelled out on those pages.”
“Gordie!” Bergman called out after a walkie-talkie crackled. “Fury is near.”
“What the hell is a fury?” a reporter shouted.
Martin Tobias had not taken his eyes off the sheriff. Gordie’s expression did not change at the shout. Martin thought: the man is either a pathological liar, or the coolest person under pressure I have ever seen.
“I demand to know what a fury is?” another reporter yelled. “The public has a right to know.”
“Assholes,” Gordie muttered, cutting his eyes to the man.
“Some of them are that, naturally,” Martin said. “But most of them are sincere in their beliefs.”
“It’s backed off,” Bergman called.
“What’s backed off?” a reporter yelled. “Damnit, somebody better start giving us some answers.”
“This . . . thing called fury,” Megan said. “It’s gone?”
“Not far,” Gordie told her. “But we can talk. Howie seems to think, from computations he’s done, that last night’s foray stretched it pretty thin. Howie thinks it’s going to take it twenty-four hours to get back to full strength. Then it will expand further.”
Martin had tentatively, hesitantly, picked up the sheets of paper and placed them in the inside pocket of his suit coat. “And these papers?”
“I just told you. They explain, as briefly as possible, what our situation is. They also outline our knowledge of what will happen to us if ... the ultimate decision is reached.”
“You are all willing to die?” Larry spoke the words softly.
“That is correct. But I wish the kids could be saved.”
“Get that gun out of my face!” a reporter yelled at a trooper.
“Back your ass off, buddy,” the trooper told him.
The reporter backed off.
Martin sighed audibly. “I came out here fully prepared to face a nut, Sheriff. My mind was made up, and that is something I rarely do without having all the facts going in. I have to conclude that you people in there are awfully brave. I salute you, Sheriff. All of you.”
Before anyone could stop her, Megan pushed open the barricade and stepped inside, standing beside Gordie. She closed the wooden barricade.
“Someone from the White House has to be inside, Martin,” she said, her voice calm. “I am an authority in quantum physics. You know that. If the decision is made, you’re going to need someone in here directing the operations.” She smiled. “On this side of the . . . grave.” She stumbled on the last bit. “I just nominated myself and seconded the motion.”
“You young fool!” Martin snapped at her.
“You are a very brave person, Megan,” Larry said stiffly.
Megan forced another smile. “On the contrary, Larry. I am so scared I’m about to pee my pants!”
Chapter Four
“My suggestion is this, Sheriff,” Megan said, out of earshot of the reporters at the barricades. “It isn’t very original, but it’s the best I can come up with on the spur of the moment.”
“I’m damn sure open for suggestions.” They walked on, further away from the crowded barricades.
“Plague. On the order of bubonic. You have a doctor still alive in here?”
“Two of them. Anderson and Shriver. And two RN’s. Shriver is not . . . stable, but he’s getting better. Go on, Megan.”
“The plague has been codenamed Fury. For want of a better word. See where I’m going?”
“Yes. I like it.”
STUPID CUNT. THAT ISN’T GOING TO FOOL ANYONE FOR VERY LONG.
“Fury,” Gordie said. “Meet Megan.”
Megan was openly, visibly, startled. Her mouth dropped open.
YOU OUGHT TO STICK A DICK IN THERE, GREASEBALL.
Megan closed her mouth.
GREAT SET OF JUGS ON THAT BROAD.
“I thought you were getting your life story recorded, Fury?”
I TOOK A BREAK. HAVE TO CHECK OUT THE NEW PUSSY.
Gordie looked at Megan. Her face was flushed, but she had a mean look in her eyes. She was rapidly regaining her composure.
She’ll do, Gordie thought.
SHE’S NOT BAD. BUT HER ASS ISN’T AS GREAT AS JILL’S.
Their hair crackled slightly as the Fury left them.
“Pure energy, Megan?”
“I don’t know. It certainly contains a great deal of electricity.”
“That’s energy, isn’t it?”
Megan smiled. “Well, Sheriff, how much do you know about physics?”
“About as much as I do about plumbing.”
“And that is ... ?”
“Shit runs downhill, and you get paid on Friday.”
Megan laughed aloud. She found herself liking Sheriff Rivera. “You’re keeping your sense of humor, Sheriff. That’s good.”
“Call me Gordie. Let’s get in the car and get away from that gang of reporters.”
Driving away from the barricades, back toward the office, Bergman and Norris following in another vehicle, Megan said, “Energy is one of the two fundamental concepts of physical science. Energy, Sheriff, is defined as the capacity for doing work. It’s a very intimate relationship. You see, no work is possible without energy stored up, unless work has been done with the body. You with me?”
“How in the hell did you ever get into politics? Or better yet, why?”
“Don’t change the subject. It’s important that you understand this. There are two kinds of energy: potential and kinetic.”
“Which one is the Fury?”
“Be quiet.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Potential energy is when the position of a body is such as to make work possible. Kinetic is when the body is capable of doing work as a result of its motion. You with me, Sheriff?”
“Megan, the Fury is comprised, composed – made up – of the souls of the dead. That’s what Sand says and I think he’s in a damn good position to know.”
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