The Faithful

by S. M. Freedman

  “Have you found anything yet?”

  “Not a thing. How about you?”

  “Nada. I’m almost convinced you came up with this idea as a form of torture, but I don’t know what I did to deserve it.”

  “I wish.” I was only half listening as I scrolled through data, comparing the MPC records to our original findings. My eyes were burning and my back was aching.

  “Rowan, are you ever going to explain what the hell is going on?”

  I swiveled in my chair. His eyes were as red as mine felt, and his brow was creased with strain. “If there’s time.”

  “What do you mean, if there’s time?” he asked, and when I didn’t answer, his eyes widened. “You think we’re looking for an impactor? Holy shit, Red.” He turned back to his computer and I did the same.

  “Ryanne, you need to eat,” Josh said quietly. His hand on my shoulder was warm and soothing.

  “I will. Soon.”

  “You haven’t eaten in seven hours. Eat.”

  He stood above me, unrelenting, until I gave in and opened the box. It was an enchilada with a side of steamed vegetables. I worked my way through it as quickly as I could, hoping it would stay down. My stomach was sour and churning with anxiety.

  Satisfied, Josh handed me a bottle of water and moved back to his station on the couch, where he’d spent the better part of the last ten hours reading through newspapers or dozing fitfully. The anxiety was coming off him in waves, and I understood it. He was a man of action, and the only thing he could do was wait.

  I turned back to the monitor and lost myself in sky plots.

  It grew dark, and the telescopes started their nightly work. I barely noticed. I ate a hamburger and washed it down with a gallon of coffee.

  Dan was asleep, face cushioned on his arm as he snored into his keyboard. Josh was on the couch, a newspaper tented over his face and his feet propped on a cushion.

  I made another trip to the bathroom and stretched out the kinks in my back before sitting down in front of the monitor. My eyes were gritty, and the information on the screen was blurred. I pressed my palms to my eyes and then blinked several times. Finally, the screen swam back into focus, and I got back to work. I was ten months into the data without seeing a single discrepancy.

  “I think I found one. Red! Check this out.”

  I swam out of the blackness. My heart was pumping with anxiety long before my foggy brain could catch up. Dim light was streaming through the blinds; dawn had arrived. Josh was climbing groggily off the couch.

  Lifting my head off the desk made me groan. Apparently, someone had replaced my skull with a vise while I was sleeping, and it was squeezing viciously against my brain. I pushed my hands into my temples in an effort to keep my head from splitting open, and staggered toward Dan.

  “I’m not sure,” he was mumbling. “I can’t find this one in the MPC catalog, but maybe I missed it?”

  “Let me see,” I said hoarsely, and fell into the rickety chair beside him. A few minutes later, I leaned back. “Shit.”

  Only then could I admit to myself that with each hour that had passed with no results, hope had bloomed within me just a little bit more. But there it was: a slow mover that didn’t show up anywhere in the MPC data.

  “Okay.” I scrubbed a hand across my face. “Make note of it and let’s get back to the search.”

  “You’ve got it,” Dan replied.

  “I’ll go get breakfast,” Josh volunteered.

  Twelve hours later, we had found fifteen NEOs that hadn’t been sent over to the Minor Planet Center for categorization.

  “I bet there are more the telescopes didn’t see, too. I mean, statistically we have to factor that in, right?” I was chewing nervously on a piece of licorice. “All of these are small enough to be easily missed, so it seems likely there are others we have missed.”

  Dan looked confused. “There are thousands of small ones the scopes miss, Red. The good news is none of these are cause for global alarm. I mean, each of them could do some serious local damage . . .”

  “Can you tell if any of them are going to impact Earth?” Josh asked.

  “We’re not there yet,” Dan explained with a shake of his head. “We have to track them now. But I’m not worried; the chances of any of them being on a collision course are highly unlikely. I’m just relieved we didn’t find any biggies.” He turned back to his computer, so he missed the look that passed between Josh and me.

  If Jack was right about what they were doing at The Command, there was a good chance all of them were on a collision course. Statistics no longer mattered.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

  “Your mom and the sheriff made it safe and sound, not to worry,” Sumner said.

  Josh was standing outside the trailer where Ryanne and Dan were frantically tracking asteroids, watching the sun setting in vibrant pinks and oranges. Soon the stars would be out, and Josh would watch them with a nervousness he had never felt before.

  “How are things going in New Mexico? Is it time to duck yet?” Sumner’s attempted joke fell flat.

  “They’ve found a bunch of NEOs that were never sent to the Minor Planet Center, and Ryanne says there are probably more the telescopes never picked up. They’re working on figuring out the trajectory. I don’t know how long it will be before we know if any of them are going to hit Earth . . . or where they’ll hit.”

  There was a moment of silence as Sumner processed the information. “That’s not good.”

  “No. Any luck with Keaton Barbetti?”

  “I’ve left him several messages, but he’s not returning my calls. I even left a message with our address. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Yeah, what the hell.” The risk of someone from I Fidele showing up on their doorstep seemed like a minor threat in comparison to fifteen or more asteroids crashing to Earth.

  “Jack’s been asking about him a lot.”

  “How’s he doing?”

  “Better. He’s eating and getting some strength back. But he really needs his dad, and I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Keep trying, I guess,” Josh said. “How’s Ashlyn?”

  “She took the news pretty hard, but she’s holding it together. Your mom is treating her like the granddaughter she never had. They’re bunking together and everything.”

  “Really?” Josh’s chest tightened with longing, but he quickly stifled it. He couldn’t afford to imagine the four of them as a happy family. Those were dreams the new reality of meteorites and ice ages was bound to squash, and he didn’t need the extra heartache when it did.

  “The sheriff called his kids, too. He was careful not to say too much, but he did tell them to gather supplies and head for a cabin he owns—”

  “Near Bone Creek. Yeah, okay, that’s good. What about supplies?”

  “I think we’ve got enough. I’ve made five more trips to Denver since you left. We’ve got water and canned food to last at least eighteen months. I bought a stove and propane tanks. Rifles and enough ammunition to last through the next century, blankets and clothing, and enough wood and matches to set all of Colorado on fire. We rented a backhoe to dig some outhouse pits, just in case we lose sewer service.

  “Also, we’ve bought out Denver’s entire supply of thermal clothing and snow gear, including four brand-new, top-of-the-line Ski-Doos, a towing trailer, and enough cans of gasoline to keep it all running for a long time. We are single-handedly fueling Denver’s economy, and this place is a survivalist’s wet dream. Let’s just hope we don’t have to evacuate. That would suck.”

  “Keep enough gas masks and a supply of food and water in the Suburban just in case.”

  “Yeah, good thought. What about you guys? You buying up supplies?”

  “I’ve got the car stocked with enough to get us through a few weeks on the road, if needed,” Josh sai
d. “And extra gas cans, too.”

  “That’s good,” Sumner said.

  “All right. You know where to reach me. I’ll call again when I have more news.”

  “Take care of homegirl.”

  “Will do.”

  Josh hung up and watched the last colors bleed out of the sky. He stood there until the first stars appeared, and then he climbed the stairs and opened the door to the trailer.

  “What the hell, what the hell, what the hell . . .” Dan was mumbling over and over. Ryanne shot Josh a look that spoke volumes. The news wasn’t good.

  “There’s got to be something wrong with my math,” Dan said. “I’m going to start again.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with your math, Dan,” Ryanne said quietly.

  “There’s got to be. This is just not possible.”

  “Dan—”

  “No! It’s not possible. I have the first three all on a trajectory that would have them impacting Earth within the week. That’s not possible, Red. Let me work the numbers again.”

  Ryanne shook her head mutely and turned back to her computer. A few minutes later, Dan pushed back and punched the side of his desk.

  “What is it?” Ryanne asked.

  “My math on the first one checks out. Come see.” Ryanne and Josh both moved toward him. “Look at this! This one is set to strike off the coast of Japan in forty-three hours, give or take.”

  “The two I’ve calculated so far are going to impact as well,” Ryanne said quietly. She moved back to her computer and they followed. “See? This one is going to hit Al Qababt, Egypt, in about three days’ time. That’s close to Cairo. This one is heading for Saint Petersburg, Russia. It’s going to impact in four days’ time.”

  Dan was shaking his head. “This isn’t possible.” His voice was faint, wobbly.

  “Dan.” Ryanne grabbed his arm as if to steady him. “Let’s do the rest. Okay?”

  “Yeah. Shit . . . Yeah, okay.” There was a gaping silence as they went back to work.

  “Thirty-nine hours. Sao Paulo, Brazil,” Ryanne called out.

  A few minutes later Dan sighed. “Atlantic Ocean, about a hundred miles off Portugal. Fifty-six hours.”

  “Berlin. Thirty-nine hours.”

  “Toronto, Canada. Sixty-one hours.”

  “South Pacific, off the coast of New Zealand. Twenty-eight hours.”

  “Damn it! New York. Thirty-two hours.”

  “Mexico City. Forty-nine hours.”

  “Botswana. Seventy hours.”

  “Holy hell. Fifty-one hours. Pacific Ocean, five hundred miles off our coast.”

  “Hong Kong. Thirty hours.”

  “Fifty-eight hours. Stockholm, Sweden.”

  “Dear God. Thirty-six hours. Atlantic Ocean, a hundred and fifty miles off our coast. That will put our entire Eastern Seaboard from Nova Scotia to Florida under water.”

  “So . . . in the next three days, both of our coasts are going to be gone?” Josh couldn’t process the information.

  “Along with a lot of other areas around the world,” Dan confirmed.

  “And that’s just the meteorites we know about. I’m betting there are more,” Ryanne added.

  “Can we . . .” Josh shook his head. “I mean, can NASA, or the Air Force, or somebody . . . can they be stopped?”

  They both looked at him, their eyes wide. Finally Ryanne shook her head.

  “Not anymore. I think the best we can do is notify people. Start evacuations, allow people to prepare,” she said.

  “I’ll call the MPC,” Dan said, and picked up the phone.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

  “You might . . . turn . . . news.” Josh’s voice broke through the static.

  “What?” Sumner sat up and flicked on the bedside lamp. It was just past six in the morning, and the world outside his window was still dark.

  “Bad news?” he asked.

  “You could . . . that.” Josh’s voice was cutting in and out. “. . . fifteen . . . impact . . . over . . . days.”

  “Jesus. What!”

  “Ryanne . . . no . . . stopping . . . they . . .”

  “What? Josh, are you there?”

  “Evacuation . . . target areas.”

  “Where?” There was a large burst of static and for a moment Sumner thought they’d lost the connection, and then Josh’s voice came through again.

  “The . . . coasts . . . new . . . so . . . president . . . inland . . . declared . . . of emerg—”

  “Dear God!” Sumner was biting his fist. “What should I do?”

  “. . . put! . . . house . . . okay? . . . No . . . Denver . . . it . . . dangerous . . . indoors—”

  “Stay here? Is that what you’re saying? How much time do we have left?”

  “Yes! . . . stay . . . two . . . Pacific . . . York . . . Ryanne . . . more . . . coming . . . don’t . . .” The static exploded.

  “Josh? Josh!” Sumner screamed, panicked. “You’re cutting out!”

  “. . . here!”

  “Are you coming back?”

  Static.

  “Get your ass back here!” Sumner shouted.

  There was a high-pitched electronic whine, and then silence.

  “The foundations of our government will remain strong during this evacuation. Our first priority is to move our citizens out of . . .”

  Click.

  “The President addressed the nation, calling for calm in the face of . . .”

  Click.

  “Around the world, governments declared a state of emergency. This is the scene outside the Vatican this evening as . . .”

  Click.

  “Looting is rampant and officials are asking the public to remain indoors . . .”

  Click.

  “NASA spokesperson Michael D. Kozlowski confirmed this morning there are fifteen asteroids on a collision course with Earth. He stressed that all of these asteroids are between twenty and sixty meters in diameter . . .”

  Click.

  “Well, Mary. We’re looking at a global catastrophe, and many people are wondering why we didn’t have more warning. I spoke to . . .”

  Click.

  “So let’s recap, for those of you who are just joining us. At six o’clock this morning, eastern time, the President called an emergency press conference . . .”

  Click.

  “Brazil; Hong Kong; Toronto; Saint Petersburg, Russia; and New York City. But the worst of the damage may come from the ocean impacts, experts are saying. Tsunami warnings are being issued for both the West Coast and the Eastern Seaboard, and evacuations of coastal towns are already under way . . .”

  Click.

  “Predictions are coming in from around the globe, and they are dire. As one NASA employee put it, ‘The age of science is over, and now we must fall back on our faith. Our faith in God, and our faith in mankind’s ability to rise again from the ashes.’ Back to you, Janice . . .”

  Sumner pressed the power button on the remote and the screen went blessedly dark. They sat in stunned silence. He could hear the ticking of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

  It was Ashlyn who spoke first. “Did my dad do this?”

  “Oh, honey . . .” Lexy said. Mrs. Metcalf wrapped an arm around the girl.

  “What do we do now?” Ora asked.

  Sumner shrugged. “Wait.”

  “And Josh thinks we’ll be safe here?” Phoenix asked.

  “Everyone is moving inland.”

  “What about Josh and Ryanne? Are they coming back?” Ora asked.

  Sumner glanced at Ashlyn. “I hope so.”

  “They’re going to have a hell of a time of it,” Lexy said, and then bit her lip when Ashlyn gave her a fierce glare.

  “Jack! Where are you going?” Sumner asked
. The boy was moving toward the door.

  “I’m going to get my dad.”

  “No!” Sumner jumped to his feet and the rest of them followed.

  “You can’t do that, honey; it’s not safe,” Lexy said.

  “Jack, you need to stay here,” Sumner added.

  The boy spun on his heels. “Didn’t you hear what they were saying? The West Coast . . . Seaside! My dad is in Seaside! Don’t you get it?”

  Ora fell to her knees in front of him. “I get it. But Jack . . . it’s too late.”

  “The West Coast is going to be underwater in two days,” Phoenix added. “There’s no way you could get there, find your dad, and get out in time. You’d drown with the rest of them.”

  Ora gave Phoenix a hard look and then turned back to Jack. “I’m sure he’s evacuating, honey. He’ll be okay.”

  “No!” Jack screamed. “No!”

  Ora tried to wrap her arms around him, but he wasn’t having it.

  “I want my dad!” he pummeled her with his fists. “I want my dad!”

  “Son,” Sheriff Lagrudo said quietly. He hadn’t spoken in hours, since the first newscasts started coming in. “I have family I’m scared for, too. I have three sons back in Nebraska, and they all have wives and kids. I have six grandkids, all told. The youngest isn’t even a year old yet. I wish they were here, so I could protect them. But there’s not much I can do except pray for their safety.”

  “Don’t tell me to pray!” Jack wailed. “My dad is all I have left, and I need him!”

  The sheriff blinked at him, and then slowly nodded. “Then I’ll go get him for you.”

  “What?” Ora asked.

  “You can’t do that!” Sumner sputtered.

  Phoenix shook his head. “That’s a suicide mission.”

  “Well, maybe it is and maybe it isn’t.” Sheriff Lagrudo shrugged. “But the boy needs his old man.”

  “I’ll come with you!” Jack said, wiping his cheeks.

  “No, son. You’ll stay put. Your daddy would want you to be safe.”

  “Don’t do this,” Ora implored.