Nomad

by Matthew Mather

  “That’s the thing.” Jess pursed her lips. “They can’t see anything there. So far they haven’t been able to detect anything directly, but something of this mass, coming undetected, there’re only a few options—or its some strange form of dark matter, something we don’t understand. It seems like it appeared from nowhere.”

  “Dark matter?”

  “Ninety percent of the universe’s matter is invisible, what they call dark matter.”

  “How do they know it’s there if they can’t see it?”

  “Same way they know this thing is there. Gravitational influence. Like an invisible bowling ball thrown onto the plastic sheet of space-time.” Jess dragged a hand through her hair.

  “I see.”

  But Jess could see he didn’t, and that he didn’t entirely believe her. Not everyone had a father who was an astrophysicist. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to give a physics lesson right now. I need to get to the airport. All I can tell you is—this thing is coming. Trust me.”

  Giovanni stared at Jess. She saw something behind his eyes. Distrust? A calculation? Something hidden. Something he wasn’t telling her, but she didn’t have the patience. Or the time.

  “And how long do we have?” he asked finally.

  “If it’s heading into the solar system, which we don’t know for certain yet”—she wagged one finger back and forth to make the point—“it will be a few months. My dad said they’ll make an announcement in three days when they know. Celeste and I are going to meet him at a hotel next to the airport this afternoon, to take a flight back to the States tomorrow.”

  Giovanni rolled forward onto his feet. “I will have Nico drive you—”

  Jess opened her mouth to object, but Giovanni held up one hand. “—I insist. And please, stay in touch with an email or text. Update me if you hear anything more.”

  “Of course.” She stared at Giovanni, then looked away, her shoulders slumping. “I need to go.”

  “Of course.”

  Jess smiled weakly and turned for the staircase. Getting to the top of it, she found Enzo staring up at her, his pork pie hat cocked back at an angle.

  “Your mother wants to see you,” Enzo said, hovering.

  This guy really creeped her out. “Thank you.” She jumped down the stairs, pushing past him. At least it would be the last time she’d have to see him.

  NOMAD

  Survivor testimony #GR4;

  Event +47hrs;

  Survivor name: Daly James;

  Reported location: Alice Springs, Australia

  What the hell happened, mate? Christ, you’re the first person I’ve spoken to in weeks.

  Okay, okay, I’ll start. I was on my walkabout, mate, spring every year I piss off into the outback. A month by myself, you know, keeps the head straight. Anyway, two weeks out of Alice Springs and I’m taking a nap when a stampede of wallabies going like batshit tears into my tent. Never seen anything like it. Maybe ten in the morning, and when I’ve finished yelling at the bastards I look up. Blue skies, but these snakes of white light are coiling around the sun, all around it. Had to rub my eyes, thought I was losing it, too much grog the night before, yeah? I decide that’s enough and pack up, start heading back.

  About mid-afternoon, these rivers of light in the sky are almost touching the ground, the fear of God rising up in me, and it shakes. The ground I mean. Knocked me clear off my feet, had to be ten minutes before I could stand, it shook that long. When it stopped, I damn near started running. But big cracks opened in the ground, everywhere, like chopped up with a mountain-sized meat cleaver, the ground shaking again. So I got back into Alice Springs, and the place is a ghost town. Nobody here. And the skies, they’re getting dark. Not clouds, mind you, but just dark, like God pulling the shades. Temperature’s dropped twenty degrees in a day. Found this shortwave in the postal station, so I turned it on, and there you are, mate. Now can you tell me what the hell is going on? (laughs nervously) Is this it, mate? Armageddon? Where is everyone? What happened?

  pgs 112-114 for complete transcript. Freq. 7652 kHz./LSB/USB

  OCTOBER 19th

  11

  FIUMICINO AIRPORT, ITALY

  “THEY ANNOUNCED THE boarding gate,” Celeste said to Jess, nudging her shoulder.

  Jess nodded and looked up at the departures board: New York 10:00 AA1465 - Go to Gate C23. She looked back at her phone.

  The man sitting beside them looked up at the board as well, then folded his newspaper and stood, smiling at Celeste and Jess. He walked off. A young woman in heels and a short skirt immediately took his place. The food court waiting area of the International Terminal of Fiumicino Airport was packed with people buzzing around. In front of them was an empty Gucci store, its sales staff standing at attention next to the entrance. The recycled air smelled of carpets and coffee, the same as airport terminals the world over.

  Celeste put her latte down and unzipped her suitcase. “Call him again.” She stuffed her Economist magazine into her carry-on.

  “I just did, he’s not answering.” Jess dialed her father’s number again anyway. She’d arrived with Celeste at the airport the evening before and stayed at the Hilton next door. One ring, then two. It went to voice mail. She jerked the phone away from her ear, hung up and threw it into her purse.

  Jess’s father, Ben, was supposed to meet them at the Hilton last night, but he called to say he would arrive in the morning. Then he sent a text and email saying he’d meet them in the International Terminal food court. Now he wasn’t answering his calls or messages.

  “Maybe he’s at the gate,” Celeste suggested, standing to knock the crumbs of her croissant breakfast off her blouse and jeans.

  A man pushing a baby stroller eyed Jess and Celeste. He wanted their seats. Jess shrugged aggressively at him, what?

  Celeste saw it and smiled at the man. “Yes, we’re leaving.” She turned to her daughter. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Shaking her head, Jess stood and grabbed her carry-on. “Fine.”

  She ran a hand through her hair and rubbed the back of her neck. She’d left most of her things at a friend’s house in Rome, said she would call when she knew where she was headed. This didn’t surprise anyone. After nearly a year in Italy, all she was leaving with was this one small carry-on. And that didn’t surprise her, either.

  “Grazie, grazie,” said the man with the stroller, angling in behind them to get the seats.

  Celeste pointed down a hallway to their right, past the Gucci store, to the “C” concourse. “This way.”

  Jess’s phone buzzed in her hand. She looked at it right away, thinking it was her father, but it was a message from Giovanni: “If you stay in Italy for any reason, feel free to come back.” Even in her deepening frustration, she managed a small grin.

  “I’m sure Ben’s on his way,” Celeste said as they walked down the concourse, passing gate C1. “Your father and I may have—”

  Jess’s phone rang. She checked the screen. “It’s him.” She pushed the answer button. “Dad, where are you?”

  Ben Rollins cringed. He knew his daughter wasn’t going to like this. “I’m on the next flight, right behind you. I’m sorry honey, but normalizing the data is taking longer than we thought. We need certainty before we make an announcement.”

  He put one hand over the receiver. “How much time, Roger? What do you think, another hour?”

  Sitting in the growing nest of papers on Ben’s hotel bed, Roger nodded. “Maybe two, tops. You can be out of here by noon.”

  Ben took his hand off the receiver. “Sweetheart, I’m leaving in an hour, two maximum.

  “But you said that last night,” Jess complained on the other end.

  “I know I did, but I promise. I’ll be right behind you.” He pulled up a list of flights on his laptop screen. “There’s a direct flight on United at 3 p.m. I can catch. I’m booking it now.”

  No response.

  “Jessica, honey, please, promise me you're getting on t
hat plane.”

  “Okay,” came the quiet reply.

  “Good. Listen, if I want to finish this, I need to go. Love you, and give your mother a kiss for me.”

  Another pause. “Love you, too.”

  Ben took a deep breath and hung up.

  “By the way, your boxes arrived.” Roger pointed in the corner of the room. “Just got here.”

  Ben looked at them. Mrs. Brown might be an old horse, but she was reliable. “Roger, we need to get this done—”

  The door to his room opened. He hadn’t given anyone else a key. “We don’t need any room service…”

  But it wasn’t a maid. It was one of the sunglass-wearing security goons from the top floor. “Dr. Ben Rollins, I need you to come with me.”

  “What?” Ben slapped his laptop closed. “I’m not going anywhere, I need to finish—”

  “This is not a request,” the big man said in a flat voice, his accent vaguely Swiss. Another man appeared behind him.

  Jess stared at the phone in her hand. She hadn’t put up much of a fight, but then there was no winning an argument with her father. Not when he set his mind to something.

  “What did he say?” Celeste asked.

  They’d arrived at C23, and the waiting area was jammed. An American Airlines Boeing 777 sat hunched on the tarmac in front of the gate.

  “He’s not coming.”

  “At all?” Celeste frowned.

  “On the next flight,” Jess corrected. “He said he’d be on the United flight at 3 p.m.” She put her phone back in her pocket and looked up at the ceiling. Black signs with orange letters indicated directions, “Trasiti - Transfers,” said one, and next to it, “Uscita - Way Out - Roma.” She stared at the sign. Roma. Rome. Way out.

  A three-chime tone played over the public address system. “American Airlines flight 1465 now pre-boarding,” announced the flight steward at the check-in desk. “Families and anyone needing assistance can now—”

  “That gives us a little more girl time, no?” Celeste said with a smile. “Come on, we can watch a romantic movie, have a few glasses of wine. It’ll be fun.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Jess closed her eyes. She opened them to see a young family pressing through the crowd, the mother and father loaded down with bags; the father held his little girl’s hand, the mother held her tiny son in one arm. The two children batted at each other, the girl smacking the little boy with an inflatable dolphin. The boy erupted into tears.

  “Susanna,” scolded the mother, “if you can’t play nice, there’s going to be quiet time.”

  Jess watched them disappear past the check-in and down the gangway. Again the image of two children playing in a field of snow flitted through her mind. The tears seemed to come by themselves, running down Jess’s face. She gritted her teeth, tried to hold it back, but she couldn’t. She sobbed, bending over, stepping to the row of seats behind her and sitting. People around her backed away.

  “Baby, what’s wrong?” Celeste knelt beside her. “Are you hurt?”

  “It’s my fault,” Jess gasped between sobs. “Everything is my fault.”

  “What’s your fault? Do you mean what happened with Ricardo?”

  “No.” Jess clenched her jaw. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “You and Dad splitting up, all of it.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, come here.” Celeste put an arm around her daughter. “You were a child, it’s not your fault. It was an accident. You can’t blame yourself.”

  Jess nodded, but she knew it wasn’t true. She’d never been honest, had never been able to admit what she did, even to herself, certainly not to her mother and father. Closing her eyes, the image of the small boy’s face disappearing into the black hole, ringed in brilliant white, floated into her mind. She opened her eyes. “I want us to be a family again.”

  The three-chime tone played again. “Now boarding all rows,” said the airline steward over the public address.

  “Baby, it’s okay. We are a family. There’s a reason your father and I never divorced. We just needed space.”

  “He’s not coming.” Jess breathed deep and regained control of herself. “You know how he is. When he gets a thing stuck in his head.”

  “He’ll come,” Celeste insisted, but then hung her head and nodded. “But maybe you’re right. Why don’t we go and get him, then? You just talked to him. He’s at the hotel, right?”

  Jess nodded.

  “An hour in a taxi and we’ll be back in Rome. Then we can all go together at 3 p.m. Is that what you want? You decide.”

  Wiping her tears away, Jess nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

  Celeste stood. “I’ll cancel our reservation.” She pointed at the check-in desk, an attendant standing and talking to passengers. “We have no checked luggage. I can just cancel this flight, and we’ll go meet your father.”

  Taking a deep breath, Jess pushed her long blond hair back from her eyes. She felt ridiculous. With the back of one hand she dried her cheeks. “Yes, let’s cancel it.”

  Nodding, Celeste strode off purposefully toward the check-in desk. Jess rubbed the tears from her eyes. In what seemed a minute later her mother returned. “Done. Why don’t you give Ben a call, tell him we’re coming?”

  The crowd of people around them faced toward the gate, waiting to board, but some of the people had turned. The noise in the concourse hushed, then people started talking loudly, a wave of noise rising up from the lower gates. More people in front of Jess turned around. She had her phone out, was about to dial her father, when she looked up to see what was going on.

  People pointed at the television monitors lining the center of the concourse. Standing, Jess turned to see what was going on. In bold letters on the screen behind: “Massive Object on Collision Course for Earth.” A BBC news anchor filled half of the screen above the headline. The people crowded around Jess shushed each other to be quiet.

  “We are joined now by the head of the Swiss Astronomical Society,” the anchor said. “Dr. Menzinger, what can you tell us?”

  In the other half of the split screen, a diminutive man, balding with wire frame glasses, chewed on his lip. “Exactly what I’ve already said. A massive object, many times the size of our sun, is heading directly into the solar system. The government has been hiding it.”

  “The government?” asked the news anchor. “Which government?”

  “Any of them,” Dr. Menzinger replied, still mashing his lip. “All of them.”

  “This is an incredible claim. Can you back it up?”

  Dr. Menzinger laughed. “Go and look yourself. Any amateur can point their telescope into the skies tonight and look at the position of Uranus or Neptune. Are they where they’re supposed to be? The gravity of this object—they’re calling it Nomad—is already pulling the planets away.”

  A third box opened on the screen with a blond-haired, tanned man in his mid-thirties. The news anchor introduced him: “This is Professor Hallaway with the Siding Spring Observatory in Australia.”

  People around Jess had their phones out. They tapped on their screens. Dozens of conversations erupted, breaking the near silence that had descended on the concourse moments before.

  “G’day,” said the blond man on the TV screen, nodding.

  The news anchor nodded in greeting. “Professor Hallaway, can you confirm what Dr. Menzinger is saying?”

  The blond Professor Hallaway took a deep breath before responding: “I can’t confirm what he’s saying, but we are seeing a disturbance in the orbit of Uranus. Something is happening.”

  “You see!” Dr. Menzinger shouted on-screen. His video box was grainy, and faded out and then back in. “You don’t need to trust me, go and look for yourselves.”

  The anchor turned his attention back to Dr. Menzinger. “So what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that the planet Earth has, at most, months before utter destruction.”

  Around Jess, shouting started, people yelling into their phones to be
heard above the rising background noise.

  “Call Ben.”

  “What?” Jess pulled her eyes from Dr. Menzinger ranting about black holes and Roche limits tearing the planet to shreds.

  “Call your father,” Celeste repeated.

  Jess’s phone was in her hand, her father’s number on it. She’d been distracted in the middle of calling him. She pushed the call button and held it to her ear. Busy signal. She tried again. Busy signal. She looked around at the people around her, all of them on their phones.

  “The cell networks are jammed,” Jess whispered in horror.

  People mobbed the airline desks. There was no way they’d get seats on the 3 p.m. flight. She doubted they’d be getting on any flight.

  Not anymore.

  12

  ROME, ITALY

  “WHAT DO YOU mean, he’s not registered here?” Jess demanded.

  The little man behind the huge marble reception desk checked his computer again. His pencil-thin mustache twitched, and he smoothed his slick hair back with one hand before looking up. “We have no record of a Ben Rollins staying at the hotel.”

  Jess clenched her fists. “But I met him here, four days ago. Check again. Doctor Ben-Ja-Min”—she enunciated each syllable of his full name—“Rollins.” She pointed at workers disassembling a booth on the other side of the lobby, an International Astronomical Union poster on the wall behind it. “He was here for the meeting.”

  Stray bits of papers and packaging littered the deep carpeting of the Grand Hotel’s lobby. Men carrying crates flowed in a steady stream out a service entrance to one side, sky-blue frescoes of angels hanging above.

  “I’m very sorry, signora, but we have no record of a Dr. Benjamin Rollins staying with us.”

  Jess leaned over the desk to try and look at his computer screen. “Do you even know how to use that goddamn—”