The force of the explosion had torn the bomber into shreds, scattering the pieces for hundreds of miles around.
“When the additional troops arrive,” Martin told the commanding general of the troops already in place, “have them completely encircle the blast area. People are going in now, to check radiation levels.”
“Yes, sir. The president is going to speak in a few minutes, sir. Do you want to listen?”
“No,” Martin said.
“End of the trail,” Sand said. “People, meet my friends. Joey, Tuddie, Morg, Jane. Sunny, you have already met Richard and Linda Jennings. And this is my wife, Robin. Our son is being looked after in a more secure place.”
“Our computations were correct, Sand,” the misty sparkling figure that was Joey said. “The door is open to within thirty miles of Willowdale, and right to the second of Central Standard Time.”
“When can they pass through?”
“In about three minutes.”
“What will we remember of this, Sand?” Sunny asked.
“Everything.”
“How much of it can we tell?”
“As much as you want. But your president, at the urgings of his advisors, is now speaking to the world, telling a pack of lies about what happened. The story will be that there was a huge spaceship that landed in Willowdale. It’s so absurd that most will believe it. The ship, from some far-off world, carried disease. That is what killed the citizens of Willowdale. The ship exploded, causing all the damage. The bomber was lost during a storm, and fell into the sea. It’s a stupid story, but many Americans are very shallow and stupid people. The truth does not interest them. Foolish games and mindless pleasures interest them. They’ll believe it. Then, after awhile, everyone will believe it. And that’s the way history will write it.”
Bos said, “These tapes of your story?”
“They will be taken from you by government agents. Give them up without a struggle. You all know the truth, and Sunny will write the truth about what happened. That is enough for me.”
“Sand,” Megan asked. “How much of the history we were taught in school is truth, and how much is fiction?”
“That I cannot tell you.”
“Can’t, or won’t?” Howie asked.
“Can’t.”
“Two minutes,” Joey said.
“When you step through the door,” Sand told them, “you will be slightly disoriented for a moment. It will pass.”
“Then you’ve done this before?” Howie asked.
“That I cannot tell you.”
Howie laughed, and Sand joined in the laughter.
“What would happen to you if ... God found out you were doing this?” Hillary asked.
“Oh, He knows. He knows everything. He knows the beating of a sparrow’s heart before some kid kills it with a BB gun. He knows the pain of the homeless and the unwanted. He hears the cries of the innocent who are in prison. He knows the pain of the starving. The helplessness of the abused children. He knows it all.”
“But He won’t help stop it,” Leon said.
“He helps. He gives you brains that could solve the problems. But few care that much. He gives you the intellect to know that to demand more from animals than you do from humans is folly. He gives you all compassion, but most lose it—willingly. He gives you a mind to absorb knowledge, but most stop learning at age twenty. The list is endless and depressing.”
“He’s giving us another chance, isn’t He, Sand?” Howie said.
“Yes.”
“And we’d better not blow it,” Angel added.
Suddenly, Sand and the others were gone. The sky above the little group was clear and star-filled. Gordie looked into the very startled face of Martin Tobias.
FREEDOM
Gordie and the others had been hustled out of the area, surrounded by government agents and soldiers. They had been taken to Colorado Springs and put aboard a plane and flown to Andrews AFB just outside of Washington. There they had been given physical examinations, hot food, clean clothing, and a place to sleep for the night.
Late the next afternoon, all of them rested and finally able to cope with the knowledge that they were alive and safe, they were taken to a huge meeting room, where they were sat down at a long table, across from the president of the United States.
“You’re certainly looking well, Megan,” President Marshall said.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Sheriff Rivera, members of the military, children, ladies and gentlemen, we have a problem,” the president said.
“We sure do,” Angel said. “I read in the newspaper all that crap you told the world the other night. You ought to be ashamed of yourself for telling lies, Mr. President.”
The president chuckled while Howie gave his sister a disgusted look.
“You’re quite right, Angel,” the president said. “And I am ashamed for telling stories.”
“Then why did you?” Angel pursued it with the honesty of the young.
“It’s a long and very complicated matter, Angel. And I’m not trying to be evasive . . . sidestep your question.”
“I know what evasive means, sir,” she told him. “Just answer me this: do you believe in your heart that you did the right thing?”
The president was a long time in replying. Finally he nodded his head. “Yes, I do, Angel. When the plan was first presented to me, only an hour or so before the bomb was to be dropped, I didn’t like it. Didn’t like it at all. And I’m still not at all sure that God will forgive me for lying to the people. But, yes, considering all the circumstances, I believe I did the right thing.”
“And you want us to be quiet about it?” Angel asked.
“Yes, I do, Angel.”
She looked him squarely in the eyes. Finally she nodded her head. “Okay, sir. If you say to keep quiet about it, I will.”
“Thank you, Angel.”
She looked at her brother. “Won’t we, Howie?”
“I had already deduced that would be requested of us, Angel,” Howie said.
“He already had it figured out,” Angel translated for the president.
“Thank you, Angel.”
“You want us to leave?” she asked. “So the grownups can talk?”
“Do you mind?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Not really.”
“I would like to see the computer room here at the base,” Howie said.
“That can certainly be arranged,” the president said. He looked at an aide, and the woman took the brother and sister on a tour of Andrews.
“What about Governor Siatos?” Bergman asked, when the kids were gone.
“The governor has been briefed. He will do what we tell him to do.”
“Does the public know we are alive?” Dean asked.
“Oh, yes. You’ll all be regarded as heroes . . . for a time. The public is very fickle about these matters. The attention and adulation won’t last long.”
“What can we write about our experiences?” Jill asked.
The president smiled. “Let’s talk about that.”
One year later. Monte Rio, Colorado.
“Are we planning a reunion, Gordie?” Sunny asked her husband, just elected to his second term as sheriff of the county. The man who ran against him received one hundred and twelve votes.
Gordie looked out the window beyond the valley, toward the mountains. Troops still patrolled the perimeters of the valley. It was sealed off tight. Radioactivity, the government said. Gordie knew that was bullshit.
“Not as far as I’m concerned,” he said, turning to face her. “How about you?”
“I really don’t have time. I’m wrapping up this book on Sand. A couple more months, and I’ll be through.” She came to stand by his side, looking out the window at the mountains. “Angel and Howie will be home from school in a few minutes.”
“Yes.”
“What’s over in the valley, Gordie? And why have you been summoned to Washington?”
/> “I’ve been summoned to Washington to discuss those . . . things over there in the valley. I don’t know what they are, Sunny. I know that the army patrols that have gone in there have never returned. The government has never reported that to the public. I’m sheriff of this county, and I can’t even go in there.”
All roads, trails, and paths leading to the huge valley had been closed. Of late, military patrols had been beefed up. Lawsuits from the relatives of those killed in Willowdale were still pending against the government, and would probably go on for years.
“Things, Gordie?”
“Things, Honey. Grotesque, dangerous things.”
Dean Hildreth and Jill Pierce were married. To each other. They still worked at competing networks. Dean was the anchor for the evening news at his network.
“Spawned by the Fury.” It was not a question.
“Yes. And they want out of the valley.”
Hillary had suffered a nervous breakdown and was still hospitalized.
“What do they look like?” Sunny questioned. “Has anybody ever seen one?”
“Yes. And I was just informed of that news yesterday. One army patrol reported seeing pirates. Another reported seeing a group of people who looked like Vikings. Still another reported seeing what appeared to be cavepeople. Another patrol said they saw men dressed like Mau-Mau.”
Bos Graham had changed his major. He was studying to be a minister.
“Mau-Mau?”
Lee Evans was still Gordie’s chief deputy.
“Yes. All sorts of wild things are being reported sighted in the valley.”
Paul and Sandy got married. Both dropped out of school.
“Howie was right, then. The Fury did not destroy all that it consumed. It managed to somehow . . . leave behind a part of itself.”
“Yes. A very dangerous part.”
Sgt. Janet Dixon married Sgt. Keith Preston.
“So it’s not over, is it?”
“It’s just beginning.”
Larry Adams left government work and dedicated his life to helping the homeless.
Megan LeMasters was still on the staff of Martin Tobias.
Sgt. Maj. Gary Christensen retired from the military and moved to Alaska.
Sunny put her arms around Gordie. “What’s the government going to do about it?”
“I guess I’ll find that out tomorrow or the next day.”
“When is your flight out?”
“Ten-forty-five tomorrow morning. I’ll land at Dulles.”
Norris and Bergman still worked for the state police. They both stopped by to see Gordie and Sunny often.
Leon moved away.
Lynn dropped out of school and got married.
“It’s a beautiful day,” Sunny commented, looking out at the blue of the cloudless sky.
Doyle and Pat were still in college.
Dr. Craig Anderson was now practicing in Monte Rio.
“Gorgeous day.”
Lt. Kathy Smith was now Capt. Smith, stationed in Germany.
Maj. Claude Jackson received the Medal of Honor. Posthumously.
Sunny cocked her head to one side and listened. She opened the window and looked out at the clear, cloudless day. Cool breezes fanned them both.
“What is that sound, Gordie?”
“Thunder.”
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
ZEBRA BOOKS
are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
475 Park Avenue South
New York, NY 10016
Copyright © 1990 by William W. Johnstone
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
ISBN: 978-1-6165-0782-4
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