The Project

by I C Cosmos

  Back at home she carefully unpacked everything, arranged her flowers, and sat down to kill the rest of the time going through the social media stuff. She clicked on the first post and her face clouded.

  >> A major cyberattack alert. Get groceries for several weeks. Withdraw your money from the bank. Don’t travel. Stay low. Don’t panic. Tell your friends to do the same.

  A hoax? The message came from one of the anti-TP sites. A reliable source, never wrong before. Still, this couldn’t be real. Phyllis shook her head and clicked on the next post. Different site, similar message. Her stomach turned.

  She kept clicking, resigned to finding the same message everywhere. She studied the comments, disregarding the hysterics and the trolls. The serious commentators pointed out that a major cyberattack would target the infrastructure of large, heavily populated areas, most likely in the US, possibly worldwide.

  Several people focused on potential timing and places. Large sports events and concerts were considered, but the most frequently mentioned event was the Global Ecological Forum in Bolivia.

  Nobody knew for sure what was going to happen, but the consensus was that travel should be avoided.

  Shocked, Phyllis tried to compose a message to Anna, Bobby’s assistant, but her fingers trembled too much to do it on the phone. She started her laptop, but even there she kept hitting the wrong keys. Eyes flooded with tears, Phyllis finally managed to send the text off. And then she remembered that Anna was traveling and not able to respond quickly. Phyllis was messaging with several friends when Anna’s answer popped up.

  >> I can’t say with certainty what’s going on. But it’s probably safer for your family not to go on the cruise.

  A ball formed in Phyllis’s throat. She expected reassurance that everything would be OK. That the websites were merely spreading doom. Phyllis reread the text several times. Anna was very precise. When she said she couldn’t say with certainty what was going on, she knew that something was going on. And she, too, considered travel unsafe.

  Phyllis curled on the couch in fetal position, shoes still on. Uncontrollable waves of shivers ripped through her body.

  The world was coming to an end, and all her children and grandchildren were on one plane. Because she won a cruise…because she had to spend all her time on TP…because she couldn’t handle Todd’s passing without it. Phyllis felt like doom was swallowing her alive. Terrifying screams exploded from her chest.

  What have I done?

  San Pedro de Atacama, Chile

  One day later

  The bus reached its final destination, a resort at the edge of San Pedro de Atacama, a small desert town in northeastern Chile. Helen’s departure point to Bolivia. A tour guide hurried into the bus before passengers started to depart.

  “Welcome to lovely San Pedro,” she said, but only people in front of the bus could hear her. She tapped the mic, put on a huge smile, and tried again.

  “Welcome to lovely San Pedro, ladies and gentlemen. Before you jump off the bus, I want to tell you about the excursions we have available for you.”

  “Scheisse,” the German sitting next to Helen exclaimed and stood up. Shit. Several people laughed. Some stood up too, ready to go.

  “Just a second, please. You don’t want to miss my deals. And you can win a free excursion if you sign up now.”

  That convinced the standing passengers to sit down again. Helen took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm. After sitting on the bus the whole night and most of the day, she couldn’t wait to get off.

  “We have dune sliding, geysers, volcano climbing, and let’s not forget the museum right here in town. I bet you all love gold. Let me tell you, this museum if filled with gold. Anyhow…”

  Helen stopped listening. One more night and a morning… If she survived the next fourteen hours, she had a chance. She bit her lip, her eyes drawn to the Licancabur volcano that looked solemnly over the town. I must make it to the other side of the volcano.

  The sun was setting, and the scenery changed rapidly in front of Helen’s eyes. The volcano turned pink, people ahhhed and moved over to her side of the bus to take pictures. Some pushed past the tour guide and ran outside for better views.

  Helen quietly slipped off the bus and checked in to her room, then typed into their dead drop.

  >> In

  The ticket for the next leg of the journey was already waiting there for her.

  ~~~

  Unobstructed by modern civilization, the desert sky silently attested to the magnificence of the universe, the vast dome of blinking stars radiating peace. For a fleeting moment, Helen felt intensely happy to be alive.

  She walked briskly to the meeting point for an excursion to the El Tatio geyser field, where she was to connect with Collin’s crew that would take her to Bolivia. The other side of the volcano. Freezing air was biting Helen’s cheeks, in spite of the knitted Andean hat and soft alpaca scarf covering most of her face.

  Helen didn’t mind. The freshness kept her sharp and focused on surviving the next four hours. She checked her apps. Nothing. Which could mean anything. Maybe she wasn’t discovered yet and Santini’s people weren’t around. Or they blended in with the tourists and stayed off the radar. Helen shrugged and got on the tour bus.

  The departure was scheduled for four thirty in the morning, but tourists trickled in for another fifteen minutes before the driver finally closed the door and took off. If everything went well, the drive to the geysers should take an hour and half. Ninety agonizing minutes. If everything went well…

  Helen shifted in her seat, unhappy to relinquish her control of the last stretch of the journey. She would have preferred to drive herself from San Pedro, but joining the excursion was less conspicuous. The bus bumped and jolted along the rough road, which, however, didn’t prevent most of the travelers from catching up on the sleep they missed by getting up so early. Helen was on high alert.

  It could take only a second to destroy her mission. The possibilities relentlessly cycled through her mind. The bus breaking down, an obstructed road, an accident, Santini’s people causing trouble on the bus or driving up to the bus and blocking its passage… One minute at a time.

  “Ik moet plassen als een reiger,” a woman sitting in the row in front of Helen said loudly. Dutch. I have to pee like a heron. The whole row laughed.

  “Wij zijn bijna daar,” another woman said. We are almost there.

  About ten minutes to go. If something happened now, she could run and make it to the meeting point on time, Helen reasoned, ready to jump off the bus at the first sign of trouble.

  The bus entered the geyser field and inched forward in a queue of many tour buses offloading their passengers. The area bustled with tourists trying to keep warm, sipping tea, and munching on hot biscuits distributed by tour guides.

  It was still dark, and Helen mixed in with the tourists and walked around the field to orient herself. She spotted the blue stand she was supposed to report to around seven o’clock, when the sun would have started to rise and the geysers came to full action. Behind the stand stood a jeep with an Andes Extreme Expeditions logo.

  Collin’s guys made it. A wave of gratefulness swirled through Helen, nearly bringing tears to her eyes.

  Several fumaroles were spewing steam already, drawing in large groups of tourists snapping photos as if they were in a Picture of the Year competition. Helen weaved in and crouched down every now and then to photograph the fumaroles with the spectacular snowcapped peaks in the background, all the time keeping an eye on her apps.

  Finally the sky colored, and swishing columns of hot water jetted into the air. Helen began to walk toward the blue stand. Her app detected two rogue units. She slowed down to study the network analyzer. Her heart skipped a beat. The units were located at the geyser field. Helen’s bot wizard automatically kicked in, tagged the units, and started to record their communications.

  Helen was checking that the information was being delivered to the dead drop when s
he lost connection. A tall woman Helen had noticed several times before walked toward her rapidly, holding her scarf to her face. She caught Helen’s eyes and held her index finger in front of her mouth as if saying don’t talk.

  “Hurry,” the woman said, barely audibly, as she passed Helen.

  What’s going on?

  Helen checked her phone. The connection icon blinked and died. She turned around and walked closer to the geysers. As soon as the connection came back on, she typed a message into the dead drop.

  >> New sign-ons. Confirm contact info received.

  No confirmation came back. Helen saw the tall woman walking back in her direction, eyes wide open. Unnerved, Helen crouched as if she were taking pictures.

  Several pairs of black boots stepped into her field of vision.

  El Tatio Geyser Field, Chile

  The boots moved closer to Helen. Heart in her throat, she looked up briefly. The guys seemed to be Scandinavians gulping their spirited drinks.

  >> Received. Get out of there. NOW!

  Helen stood up and strolled toward the blue booth, checking her apps while on the way. The conversation was in full progress.

  >> I want all of them out

  >> You need just a few to cause lots of trouble

  >> Don’t fuck with me. I want all 31 of them out. Period

  >> In that case I need all 31 keys. And the price quadruples. Paid in full up front

  Helen stepped into the blue booth in a daze. All thirty-one of them? That can’t be…

  “Quick. Your hat and scarf.” The tall woman pulled the Andean hat off Helen’s head and handed her a deep purple fedora. “I am sorry, honey. We are running out of time.”

  Lynne. Helen had never met her, but it had to be Lynne, Bobby’s ex-wife. “Lynne?” Helen mouthed while unwrapping her alpaca scarf.

  Lynne nodded and put her finger to her mouth. She quickly gave Helen’s hat and scarf to a woman dressed in black pants and jacket looking like Helen’s. “Here. Go. You know where the bus is. Good luck.”

  Helen touched the woman’s arm. “The fourth row on the right when you step in. Window seat,” Helen whispered, realizing that this woman was taking her place on the excursion bus.

  Lynne gave the woman a quick hug and wrapped a thick scarf around Helen’s neck and face. “Let’s go.” She grabbed Helen’s hand, pushed through the back of the blue stand, and gently guided Helen into the Andes Extreme Expeditions jeep. “Go!” she ordered before the doors were shut.

  The jeep took off.

  “Don’t say anything until we have crossed the border. Here is your passport. Memorize it,” Lynne whispered into Helen’s ear and chatted briefly with the two guys sitting in the back of the jeep. Americans, Helen concluded, relieved.

  She opened the passport, forcing herself to study the information. Anna Marie Johnson. Born in Boston… Helen’s head swam. Nausea swept through her as the jeep hit the country road. All thirty-one of them… They were after the GPS satellites. Helen shivered. Lynne eyed her sharply.

  “We are nearing the Bolivian border. You better remember the stuff. Play sick if you don’t,” she whispered while studying Helen as if assessing whether she was up to the task. Helen wasn’t sure she passed.

  “Got it,” she whispered back, giving Lynne a reassuring smile.

  “We want to cross the border before they change the crew. Easier to deal with the guys who saw us going in. But we don’t have much time left.”

  Helen nodded. Anna Marie Johnson. Born in Boston on August 10… She repeated the details in her mind. Anna and Marie were the first names of her grandmothers. She opened the passport to verify she remembered the date of birth correctly. Helen closed her eyes. The satellites. Jeez… Totally out her league. She couldn’t shield the satellites if her life depended on it. Which it might, she thought. Nausea almost knocked her over.

  The jeep stopped briefly and took off almost immediately. The Chileans waved them through. In no time they came to stop on the Bolivian side of the border. Lynne grabbed “Helen’s” passport and jumped out of the jeep. The guy who sat next to the driver, their Bolivian “guide,” joined her as she walked into the small building on the side of the road.

  Helen scanned her surroundings. The area around the border crossing was barren as far as the eye could see. There was no way she could run for it. Helen slumped in her seat, putting the scarf around her face.

  The two guys who rode with her and Lynne in the back of the jeep were checking their devices, weapons in plain sight. They exchanged a look belying their poker faces. Lynne had been gone too long.

  Helen took a deep breath, bracing herself for trouble. After a few minutes Lynne emerged from the building, laughing, waving her hand, the guide in tow.

  They climbed into the jeep.

  “Go. As fast as you can. We are late.”

  Helen looked at Lynne quizzically.

  “We have to get to Laguna Colorada before they change their perception of what happened here,” Lynne whispered.

  “Nothing happened,” Helen whispered back. “A couple of rich Americans went to the geysers and back.”

  “Yeah. That’s what they believe now. But one phone call could change that very quickly.”

  “You seem to know more than I do. Let’s level.”

  “When we are at the lake.”

  They drove through the otherworldly landscape in silence, Lynne watching the driver and the guide sharply. Helen tried to send an OK message to the dead drop but didn’t have connection.

  “So, people are saying that this is the blood of the gods,” Lynne said loudly when they were approaching the lake. “But the red color actually comes from algae and minerals.”

  “It’s spectacular,” Helen said, gazing at the deep-orange water, the hundreds of pink flamingos, the crisp blue sky, and the volcano in the background. “What a picture.”

  “Yeah. I need to take some pics for my blog. Let’s go,” Lynne said as the jeep stopped.

  “I didn’t trust the guide,” Lynne explained when they were at a safe distance. “Had a bad vibe about him. Good thing we are switching cars now.”

  “Thanks for making this trip,” Helen said. “You took a big risk.”

  “Honey, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Collin told us you insisted, but I couldn’t leave you all on your own one minute longer than necessary.” Lynne talked a mile a minute. “Besides, I thought you could use a lawyer.” She winked.

  Helen laughed. “Let’s hope not. But I can definitely use a friend.”

  “You got that. We love you. Bobby thinks the world of you.”

  “Lynne—” Helen started but stopped herself. This wasn’t the right time.

  Lynne’s eyebrows shot up. “What…? Oh, that.” Lynne gave a knowing nod. “Bobby told me about the week in Jakarta. No worries, honey. It was after we got divorced and before we got back together.”

  “Wonderful you are back together! Bobby was crushed about losing you.”

  “So was I. Let’s take some pics for the blog. It’s my cover.” Lynne pointed at two llamas looking at them defiantly from the water’s edge. “I’d like to get one with the llamas and the flamingos.”

  “So, what scared you at the geysers?” Helen asked after the photos were taken.

  “Collin thought your uncle was there.”

  Laguna Colorada, Bolivia

  “I never noticed anyone resembling him,” Helen said after a moment of shocked silence. “Although—” She stopped herself, thinking about the rogue conversation.

  “Luckily he didn’t spot you either. Or so it seems,” Lynne said. “Which reminds me, we have to get going.”

  They walked to a black SUV and got in, followed by the two officers who drove with them from the geysers. Another officer and a driver were waiting in the SUV.

  “Let’s go.” The guy sitting next to the driver took charge.

  “OK, ladies. Welcome on board.” He turned toward them. “The estimated time to Tarija, our des
tination, is about ten hours, headwinds not included. So please sit back and enjoy the glorious views. Delicious coffee and sandwiches are on the back seat, help yourselves.”

  “And I so much hoped for champagne and caviar,” Lynne chimed in, a grin from ear to ear making her look like a high schooler.

  “That’s reserved for our first-class passengers only, ma’am.”

  They all laughed. Helen enjoyed their company and the easy camaraderie. After the stressful solo travel through Chile, it was like a soft, gentle massage for her soul.

  “Now, seriously. No alcohol in high altitudes,” the guy continued. “We are going to reach almost twenty thousand feet at one point. So eat your carbs and drink your water.”

  “That’s my luck. I am craving carbs my whole life, and when I finally may eat them, I am not hungry.” Lynne suppressed a yawn.

  “Take a nap. You had an early start.” Helen put her hand on Lynne’s arm.

  “So did you.” Lynne could hardly keep her eyes open.

  Helen slouched in her seat to convince Lynne it was OK to take a rest. She watched the scenery for a while, letting her eyes rest on the undulating horizons, appreciating the artistic interplay of colors and contours. Soothing blues, beiges, browns, soft greens… Dali-like shapes. It was like driving through an open-air museum.

  It didn’t take long before the nagging questions in Helen’s mind forced their way to the foreground. The satellites dominated her mental scenery, and there was nothing soothing about it. Doom and inferno. Blacks and reds devoured the soft blues and beiges. Helen shrugged. There must be a way.

  One step at a time.

  If the Consortium knocked out the sats, everyone would feel it. And it wasn’t about not finding one’s way to a lunch date or not receiving the exact time on one’s phone…

  Planes! Oh God… Helen tried to think of everything she learned about the sats. Planes, her first concern, actually could fly without GPS. But they could experience problems with landing, especially if everyone lost GPS… Chaos at the airports.