by Al Macy
“Understood,” Hallstrom said.
McGraw shifted his feet. “Of course, there could be another round of these emitter things that we haven’t even discovered.”
“Life is full of risks,” Charli said.
“Well, yeah,” replied McGraw. “That’s one way of looking at it.”
Hallstrom scratched his ear. “Okay, let’s give it another day or so before we decide.”
“Let me go get Jake,” Charli blurted out. Her voice was louder than she’d planned. Both McGraw and Hallstrom looked at her.
The president shook his head. “No, I don’t want to risk you, Charli.”
“Look,” she said. “Put me in an F15 and shoot me down to Mexico City. I’ll grab Jake before he disappears again and then zip up to DC and meet you there.”
“I don’t know,” Hallstrom said.
“I’ll hold my breath while walking out to the airplane, if that will make you feel any better.”
Hallstrom just looked at her.
She went on. “You told me to give it top priority, and it’s been one of my main focuses.”
“Foci,” McGraw smiled.
Charli punched him in the shoulder. “I’ve got cabin fever. I need to get out of here. Jake could disappear again in a flash.”
The president frowned, turned to Charli, held her by both shoulders and stared at her. “Charlotta Keller …”
She frowned at the serious tone and looked at him, cocking her head like a puppy that just heard a strange noise.
“Jake’s not your bubble boy, is he?” Both Hallstrom and McGraw burst out laughing.
“Ha ha.” Charli reddened, pulled back, and stomped away down the hall. “Very funny.”
“Permission granted,” Hallstrom yelled after her. “Go get him, Charli. Go get your bubble boy.”
Without turning back, Charli raised her arm and gave the president of the United States the finger.
* * *
June 11, 2018
Sheriff Marie Keller walked in through the unlocked door of the Algashie River power generation facility with Mike right behind her. Just as she had feared: There was no one there. No one alive.
The main control room was humming along fine. The outdated control board on the wall, with its diagrams, labels, and lights, was dusty and faded. Left there as artwork? It was a reminder of how primitive the system had been in the past.
The current, functioning system consisted of six flat-screen monitors in two rows above a desk holding several keyboards and pointing devices. The only thing not humming along was the system operator. He was slumped over the table in the dessicated state that Marie was now used to seeing. He must have fallen asleep at the desk. This is what she’d expected; the phone had gone unanswered all morning.
Marie pulled out the portable police radio she'd started carrying. She pressed the mic switch.
“Claire, this is Marie. Have you gotten any help on the phones?”
“Yes, Ma’am, Bill Hennessey is here. His wife is gone, and he’s pretty broken up about it, but this is distracting him.”
“Good. Look, there’s no one alive here at the power station. Everything seems to be running on autopilot just now.” Marie looked absentmindedly around the room while she talked. “Can you call the power commissioner’s office, explain the situation, and patch them in to me?”
“High priority?”
“Yes, ASAP.”
While waiting for the callback, Marie and Mike picked up the dead controller and carried him into a storeroom. He had been obese, but his dried-out corpse weighed only about a hundred pounds. Just as they put him down, an alarm sounded in the control room, as if the impact of his body with the floor had jostled something loose.
There was probably nothing they could do about it, but they hurried back anyway and went over to the monitors. The top right monitor held a big spreadsheet-like display with a dark blue background. A line near the top was flashing orange, with the words “Low-head three Overvoltage.”
After ten minutes of watching this and enduring the alarm, her radio came to life: “Marie, come in, I have the power commissioner’s office on the line.”
“Thanks, Claire, put him through.”
A raspy voice came over the radio. “Sheriff Keller, this is Fred Hindley from the commissioner’s office. I’m a retired engineer, but I’m helping with administration, and I hear you could use some personnel down there.” From the sound of his voice, Marie pegged him at ninety-five or older.
“Thanks for your help, Mr. Hindley, and that’s true, but first I have a situation that I need help with. Can you hear the alarm tone?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“Well, apparently I have a ‘low-head three overvoltage’ here. That may sound like I know what I’m doing, but I have no clue what it means. Is this important, and is there anything I can do about it?”
“Of course it’s important, all our alarms are important.”
Great, I had to get the old guy with attitude. “Does this need to be fixed, and is there anything that I can do?”
“Of course it needs to be fixed.”
“Mr Hindley, I woke up this morning next to my dead husband. I then had to take over as sheriff, and thirty minutes ago I shot someone dead. Please answer my questions in a helpful way.”
“Of course. What color is the light at the far right side of the wall?”
“On the big board on the wall?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, Mr. Hindley, that light is off, as are all the lights on the wall. The monitors—”
“Off? All the lights are off?”
“Mr. Hindley, this control center now uses computers and computer screens, and the alarm just got louder.” She had to yell this last part, and she retreated into another room.
“Miss Keller, I’m going to have to put you on hold.”
“Wait, I—” There was a click followed by elevator music—“The Girl from Ipanema.”
She turned to her great-grandson. “Mike, go outside the door and let me know if you can see any lights, like traffic lights, from town.”
The elevator music stopped. “This is Ben Gill, who am I speaking with?”
“This is Sheriff Keller speaking from the Algashie River power generation control room. Are you an engineer?”
“Yes, ma’am. How can I help you?”
“I have a low-head three overvoltage alarm here, and I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Okay, I understand. Do you see the six monitors over the control station?”
“Yes, sir.” Now we’re cooking with gas.
“The top right monitor lists all the alarms that have come through. Is that where you see the overvoltage message flashing?”
“Yes.”
“What color is the line that’s flashing?”
“It was orange and now it’s red.”
“Okay, now if you look down—”
“Is this a serious problem? Is the area going to lose power?” Marie looked for Mike, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“Yes, and worse.”
“Worse? What do you mean ‘worse’?”
“Well, if this problem isn’t resolved, it might cause an explosion that will put that power station out of commission for weeks,” Gill said.
“Got it, tell me what to do.”
“First, look down on the monitor below the alarm list display. There should be a large icon flashing red.”
“Yes, I see it.”
“Okay, there should be a countdown timer next to that, what does it read?”
“Twenty-eight colon fifteen colon twelve colon five. The last number is counting down.”
“Okay, good that means we have over a day to fix this, and I can send—”
“No, wait, sorry, that was the wrong one. The one next to the red icon reads thirty two colon twenty one. That is, it’s counting down from thirty two minutes right now.”
“Are you sure?” Gill’s voice went up in pitch.
<
br /> “Quite sure.”
“You’re going to need to perform a manual switchover between the overvoltage quad phase regulators.”
“Can I do that, whatever it is, in time?” Marie dropped into a chair. I wish I could take a break.
“Maybe. Are you good with electronic devices?”
“At home, my DVD player is flashing 12:00. Understand? What happens if I can’t fix this?”
“I’ll talk you through this, Marie. First we need to find the emergency shut-off switch. It will be outside. A large red box.”
“How large?” Marie pulled Mike, who’d come in with a thumbs up, out to the maze of gray girders, cables, metal cabinets, and ceramic insulators.
“About the size of a breadbox.”
I’ll bet he’s never even seen a breadbox. “Ben, everything here is gray. I don’t see anything that’s red.”
“It’s probably inside one of the gray cabinets. Look for a cabinet that doesn’t have a lock on it.”
“Okay, I’m looking.” She grabbed Mike’s arm. “Go back in there and see how much time—no wait. I’ve got it, Ben. Inside one cabinet there’s a red box labeled ‘Emergency Shut-Off. Emergency Only.’ I’ve opened it and there’s a lever. ‘On’ and ‘Off.’”
“Good. Have your assistant go inside and watch the countdown timer. If it looks like you’re not going to be able to complete the quad phase switchover, you have to push that lever to off before the countdown gets to zero, got it?”
“Got it. Just like on TV.” She looked at Mike and told him to go in and yell out the countdown. “What next?”
“Okay, now you have to find two cabinets labeled ‘Low-Head Three.’”
“That was easy,” Marie said. “I see them.”
Mike started yelling from inside, “Fourteen minutes eight seconds. Fourteen seven seconds.”
“Mike,” she yelled, “Just tell me the minutes until we get down to thirty seconds.”
“Okay. Thirteen minutes. Thirteen minutes. Thirteen minutes.”
She ran inside, got Mike straightened out, and trotted back to the cabinets. They were locked. She ran inside to the storeroom and found the ring of keys on the technician’s belt. There were over fifty keys. She dropped them in her pocket and ran back out, her boots crunching over the rough gravel.
“Twelve minutes!” Mike was with the program now.
Back at the cabinets, Marie hoped that it might be obvious which keys would work. No such luck. Most of the keys were the same size. She tried one or two and then put the ring back in her pocket. A fist-sized rock lay by the chain-link fence at the edge of the yard. She reached down, grabbed it, and smashed it against the lock on the first cabinet. The lock held, but a gash opened on the thin, old-person skin of her middle finger. It bled down over her hand.
“Marie, what’s happening?” Gill’s voice had now gone up an octave. “What was that noise?”
“I’m trying to get the cabinets open. Hold on.”
“Eleven minutes!”
Marie started to pull the ring of keys out, and scanned the area. There! Sticking out of a trash bin. A flat bar of rusted iron. Perfect. She snatched it from the bin and pried the two cabinets open.
“Okay, Ben, I have the cabinets open. Now what?”
“Is there a yellow pole nearby?”
Marie looked around. It was hanging on the back of the first cabinet. “Yes, I see it.”
“Nine minutes!”
“Good. There should be four big switches in each cabinet. On the left cabinet, all the switches have green lights over them, and on the right one, they have red lights.”
“Yes. Good, Ben, things are looking up.”
“Okay, you’re going to turn off the switches on the left and turn on the ones on the right.”
Marie reached for the switches.
“But not by hand,” Ben shouted.
Marie jerked her hand back.
“Eight minutes!”
Ben continued. “Use the yellow, Fiberglass pole to switch off the first one, and wait until the light changes from green to red then switch on the corresponding switch in the right cabinet. Got it?”
Marie followed the instructions, but the light didn’t change to red.
“The light isn’t changing.”
“Don’t worry, it will, just give it time.”
“We don’t have a lot of time, Ben.” The light was still green. “What will happen if we don’t get this done, and we don’t flip the shut-down switch?”
“Seven minutes!” Mike sounded like he enjoyed his role.
“You’ll see a beautiful purple flame shoot out of the top of the cabinets. If that happens, run like hell, because a big explosion will come next.”
“The first light still hasn’t turned red—wait, there it goes.” Marie took the pole and switched on the first switch in the right cabinet. That was easy. She switched off the next in the left, and the light turned red. “Okay, Ben, this is going to work.”
It didn’t work. The light on the last switch refused to turn red.
“Fifty-nine! Fifty-eight! Fifty-seven!”
“Ben, the last light isn’t going red.” Marie put the yellow pole on the last switch on the right. “Can I switch the last one to ‘on’ anyway?”
“No, no, no!”
Marie held the pole and looked over to the shut-off switch, estimating how long it would take her to get there. She figured ten seconds. “Ben, I’m going to have to hit the shut-off.”
“That’s okay, Marie. You gave it your best shot. As long as there’s no explosion, we’re all good.”
“Fourteen! Thirteen! Twelve! Eleven! No, Nine!”
Marie dropped the pole and sprinted toward the shut-off. She tripped on some debris but caught herself. She got to the main switch with three seconds to go. She flipped it to off and flopped to the gravel on her butt. Just like in the movies. Phew!
Mike called out “Two! One! Zero!”
A beautiful purple flame shot out of the top of the low-head cabinets. “No, no, no. Mike, run!”
He charged out into the yard, picked up his diminutive great-grandmother and carried her like a football, racing down the hill. Marie bounced as if draped over a rodeo bull. Man, this, oof, kid, oof, is strong. Oof. Oof.
They were fifty yards from the Algashie River power generation facility when they heard the boom. They looked back to see an orange fireball engulf the yard.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
June 12, 2018
The sun had just risen over the surrounding mountains, and a crisp wind blew Charli’s hair around. She walked out to the whining F15, holding her helmet and not holding her breath. The loose-fitting flight suit made it hard to pretend she was a real kick-ass fighter pilot because she had to gather up the fabric around her stomach and hold it up as she walked. Didn’t matter. Despite the seriousness of the world situation, and the friends she’d lost, this was fun. The pilot informed her that this was not a joyride, but she batted her eyelashes and got him to promise to throw in a barrel roll and a few high speed turns.
Two hours and one upchuck later she walked into the late Renata Perez’s living room. What a beautiful view. The furnishings were modern, and the room was spotless. Jake stood by the picture window nursing a whiskey, Mexico City spread out below. He barely acknowledged her presence.
“Mr. Corby. Jake. We need you.” She walked to the window and looked at the mountains in the distance.
“How did you find me?”
“That’s not important.”
“It is to me. I’m looking for reasons to say no and go back to my old life, and I have a feeling that what you did would be a pretty good reason.”
“Your old life probably doesn’t exist, and all life on Earth may be threatened unless we figure out what is going on. You are good at that.” She looked at him, but he continued to stare out the window.
“You’ve got lots of people who are good at that. How could you possibly need me?”
�
�You’ve been through a lot, and I appreciate your grief over losing your friends.”
Jake scoffed. “How can you—”
“I’ve lost loved ones, too. We all have.”
Jake turned and looked at her for the first time. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”
After a pause, he continued. “Do you know why I stopped working and dropped out?”
“Yes, I’ve seen your file.”
“Tell me what it says.”
“There was a mix-up, and your wife was killed as a result.” Charli slipped a lock of hair behind her ear.
Jake laughed. Charli waited.
“They left some stuff out. There was a ‘strategic leak’ of information that the NSA had obtained through a wiretap of my home phone.” He paused. “The leak may have been authorized by Hallstrom. They leaked more than they were supposed to, and as a result, Mary was kidnapped, tortured, and killed. Tortured. She was six months pregnant. It would have been our first child. It would have been a girl.” Jake was shaking and had to put his drink down.
“I’m sorry, Jake.” She hugged him. Just like that. She didn’t think about it, she just did it. It felt inappropriate and right at the same time. He stiffened for second. He started to push her away. Then he relaxed. They held it for a long time. Nothing sexual, just comforting.
Charli said, “I would have dropped out if that had happened to me.”
“But …”
“But the world may be—no, is—under attack. Five billion people have been murdered. Not five thousand, not five million, five billion.”
Jake said nothing.
“I know you’ll do what’s right here. The short time we worked together, I was impressed with your integrity.”
“How did you find me? You still haven’t answered.” Jake continued looking at the mountains.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes. The fact that you’re not telling me means that it matters.”
Charli looked down. She considered lying—for the good of the world. No! “NSA had a wiretap on Renata Perez’s line.”
Jake turned and left the room.
* * *
Jake went into Sophia’s room after Charli had left. He sat in the chair by his goddaughter’s bed and watched her sleep. The walls were pink and covered with animal posters. Sophia held her stuffed dog, Perro, in a death grip. Her father had not survived the die-off, so Jake was now her guardian. That was fine with him.
