“Howdy Jilly,” Colonel Dan said in his carefully manicured southern drawl, “your momma tells me you’d do anything to be Oklahoma’s next outstanding teen.” Colonel Dan put his fat, pasty face next to Jill’s. He pressed wet lips against her cheek. “Is that true Jilly, would you do anything?” Colonel Dan whispered. When he spoke, his words bubbled and dripped from his mouth like hot wax. She felt his tongue slither and curl around her ear lobe. She recoiled in disgust, leaning back until her arms, still held fast against the desk, snapped taut.
“Get away from me!’ she cried. But she couldn’t pull free. He was too strong. Suddenly, his right hand came away from her left, freeing it. She balled her fist and swung at his face as hard as she could, but he blocked her punch with his arm and in the same motion, clamped his hand around her neck.
“Ah, that’s a good girl Jilly,” he said, “fight me! Work up a good sweat!”
Jill felt his hand tighten around her throat. His fingers, impossibly long, laced across the back of her neck, the meat of his palm was jammed tight under her chin. He pulled her close to him, lifting her off the floor and holding her over the desk. His eyes had turned into pupil-less black pearls, a black, snake-like tongue slipped in and out of his slightly parted lips.
“I can taste your fear, dear Jilly,” he said, his words slurred and slow. “Your vessel is weak and not worthy to host one such as I, but it will suit my purpose. I will use it to renew my reign on this world.”
Jill couldn’t speak, she couldn’t breathe. She punched weakly at the hand around her neck as Colonel Dan slammed her down onto the desk.
“The time has come, my dear Jilly, for you to make way for me. Make way for your master.”
She felt his hand on her knee and the n felt it slide up her thigh. She bucked wildly, using the last of her strength, in a last ditch attempt to free herself. He brought his face close to hers. She opened her mouth to scream but there was no air to form the sound. Colonel Dan opened his mouth wide, wider than she thought any human could, and placed his mouth over hers. Something thick and rope-like plunged into her mouth, filling it. It pushed its way to the back of her throat, forcing her jaws open until she felt muscle rip from bone. The pain was excruciating. Like that night so long ago, she retreated from the pain, disconnecting her mind from the torture of her body until she felt nothing, nothing at all.
18
Victoria was jarred awake by a sharp poke to her ribcage. “Miss Jill?” she murmured as she wiped the haze of sleep from her eyes. It was still too dark to see anything clearly. There was no moon, and the stars, though more plentiful and bright than Victoria had ever seen, did not penetrate the darkness that engulfed her. Jill whimpered softly then began to make jerky, awkward movements. She’s dreaming, Victoria thought. She placed her hand against Jill’s cheek. It was hot to the touch. And she’s burning up. She swept Jill’s wet hair away from her ear.
“M-M-Miss Jill, are you awake?” she asked, not really expecting an answer. Victoria propped herself up on one elbow and gave Jill’s shoulder a firm shake. “Miss Jill, w-w-w-wake up,” she said, her own voice sounding dull against the constant throb from her damaged eardrum. She was scared when, soon after the mysterious explosion in the sky, the sound of sirens, screams, and gunshots wafted to their rooftop from the street below. But now it’s too quiet, she thought. She shook Jill again, harder this time, her angst building as her fear of the dark crept in around her. Get a hold of yourself Victoria, she thought, you’re an adult. There’s no reason to be afraid of the dark. Besides, you’ve got bigger things to worry about. Miss Jill needs help. She felt the back of Jill’s head, searching for the wound. It was there, a bumpy and ragged scar at the base of her hairline. She’s not bleeding anymore but I need to get her to a doctor. The way she’s moving, she might have brain damage or something. Jill’s movements were becoming more pronounced. She was flailing her arms and pumping her legs, as if she were trying to get away from something. Victoria sat up then straddled Jill, using her legs to pin Jill’s arms against her body, trying to keep her still. “Miss Jill, wake up!” she said. This time, Jill’s eyes opened. “Th-Th-Thank goodness!” Victoria said, relieved. “Miss Jill, I-I-I was so worried. H-H-How are you feeling? Y-Y-You hit your head s-s-so hard, I-I-I thought—”
A searing pain erupted in both Victoria’s legs as she felt Jill’s body twist beneath her and then she was thrown several feet across the roof deck. She crashed headfirst into the aluminum legs of a group of deck chairs near the edge of the hot tub. She rolled onto her back, and her arms became entangled in a string of paper lanterns blown loose during the explosion. “M-M-Miss J-J-J-Jill!” were the last words Victoria Cashman spoke before a powerful hand, a hand with impossibly long fingers, clamped around her throat and crushed her larynx.
19
President Marcia Kinsdale followed her entourage into the White House situation room and took her place at the head of the large conference room table. As was protocol, everyone in the room stood as she entered.
“Please be seated,” she said while she settled into her seat. She surveyed the room; It was an eclectic and unusual group, even for crisis such as this. Seated to her left were the emergency response team; those federal agencies already on the ground in Houston. On her right were the newcomers; members of the Joint Chiefs, the Homeland Security Council, the National Security Council, and selected members of the CIA and FBI. She noticed representatives from the response team were scanning the room, trying to ascertain the purpose of this impromptu briefing by trying to identify the new faces in the room. If they know who these new players are, they’ve probably guessed that something significant is about to be discussed, she thought. She had called this meeting when the science team had informed her of the anomalies they discovered regarding the meteoroid. If their analysis was correct, the knowledge could change the course of human history.
She cleared her throat. The room grew quiet and all eyes focused on her. It was a phenomenon that she still had not quite gotten used to. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming on such short notice.” She thought she heard a couple of muffled snickers escape into the packed room. Goodness Marcia! she thought, Stop being so polite! You're the POTUS, of course they're going to come when you ask. The Washington political establishment, those fat cats and lifelong bureaucrats who hid behind the curtain of super-PACs, lobbyists, and shell companies, pulling the levers of government like some demented Wizard of Oz, had a tough time taking her seriously. In their opinion, she didn't have the air of bravado and machismo they expected in the leader of the free world. Even though she wasn’t the first woman president, it didn’t help that she was one. In public, Marcia pretended to ignore her detractors, shaming them into silence with the standard refrain of, “the American people elected me not you!” But in private, their critique gnawed at her confidence, eroding it bit by bit, until she found herself wondering if they were right. She self-consciously flexed her brow and pursed her lips a bit. She hoped the stern, tough exterior she wished to convey was evident on her face. It was a look that didn’t really fit her grandmotherly stature. During the campaign, she had worked hard to emphasize an image she was more comfortable with; a persona of a loving wife, mother, and super grandmother, someone with the temperament to be a steward of the whole nation. It was an image she believed in and embraced right up until the moment she was sworn in as the 48th President of the United States. Then it all got turned upside down, she thought.
Her presidency, her detractors were fond of repeating, was somewhat of a fluke. She was fortunate, they said, that America had grown weary of the ‘take no prisoners’ politics of the past. The electorate were tired of the lies, the scandals, and the partisan bickering. Her predecessor had worn thin the country's tolerance for the hard-nosed, tough, populist type of figure that traditionally won elected office. Marcia was the antithesis of all who had come before her. By her own admission she wasn't particularly smart, or a great orator, or even an adept policy w
onk. One prominent Republican strategist said, in describing her unexpected win of the Republican nomination, “Americans, weary of waiting for a Santa Claus to bring them the gift of a righteous and just America, settled for a portly Mrs. Claus with a tray of warm milk and cookies.” Vilified by her own party, Marcia nonetheless won the hearts of the American people with her message of love, kindness, and unity. They longed for someone to take care of them; to hold them to her bosom and tell them everything was going to be alright. That someone was me, she thought. The political pundits labeled her the 'milk and cookies’ candidate; motherly and sweet, but a candidate with no real substance and no real chance of winning the presidency. Well, here I am, Marcia Kinsdale, Nurturer-in-Chief, she thought. Even in this very serious briefing, the thought of that nickname—Nurturer-in-Chief—bestowed upon her by her husband Mark, almost brought an inappropriate smile to her face.
But it doesn't take long for this office to crush the decency out of you. After she was sworn in, attended all the extravagant parties, and the lengthy acceptance speeches; after all that pomp and circumstance, the minions—those poor souls charged with keeping the machinery of government running while the aristocracy plays king of the hill every four years—took their newly minted president to a back room, ripped open the top of her head, and poured in all the shit this country's gotten itself involved in into her unsuspecting cranium. I found out why most presidents drop out of political life after their term in office, happy to escape with their sanity and a head of gray hair. Once she became the steward of America’s ‘real’ agenda, she was forced to abandon the Nurturer-in-Chief role and adopt a more aggressive posture. Her first hundred days were a whirlwind of top secret meetings, backroom deals, and scripted public communications. Members of her cabinet promised that soon, very soon, she’d be able to focus on the things she campaigned on—jobs, health, and education—but right now her itinerary was filled with the task of cleaning up other people's messes. And now, a building-sized rock has fallen out of the sky, reducing a major city to rubble, killing an untold number of innocent people. Her mind flashed back to a reconnaissance video she saw of the carnage; the images made her sick to her stomach. I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I can be as strong as the American people need me to be. She scanned the room. Half these people don't think I'm capable of guiding the country through this tragedy. They're convinced this is the end of the United States as they know it. She took a deep breath. “Let’s get right to it then,” she said, “Dr. Donaldson, would you be so kind as to bring us up to date as to the status of this crisis?”
Dr. Harold Donaldson, the Department of Homeland Security’s Under Secretary of Science and Technology, ran a hand through his mane of unkempt brown hair and surveyed his audience with bloodshot but still piercingly blue eyes. “Yes, of course Madam President. To review for those who may have not been privy to or present at previous briefings, at approximately 11:40 pm eastern time, what we believed to be a large, dense asteroid, approximately 30,000 tons and thirty meters in diameter, entered the earth’s atmosphere and exploded approximately twenty miles above southeast central Texas, near the city of Houston. The resultant blast wave, equivalent to approximately ten megatons of TNT, caused significant loss of life and property damage. Agencies on the ground estimate that there are well over one hundred thousand fatalities and many thousands more injured, and billions of dollars worth of structural and fire damage to property and critical infrastructure. Almost a third of the Texas interconnection electrical grid is damaged or out of commission, resulting in a total blackout for Houston and the surrounding area. NERC, the North American Electric Reliability Council, estimates that six million people are without power.”
General Saul Adams, commander of the Army Special Operations Forces, or ARSOF, leaned back in his chair and whistled. “Is that the best lie you could come up with? My sources tell me this was a terrorist attack and that the detonation had the classic signature of a Russian megaton warhead.”
“We are positive it wasn’t a nuclear detonation,” Harold replied, “no launches capable of reaching the United States have been detected by NORAD and no radiation has been detected from the blast itself.”
“So you're telling me a random space rock with a ten megaton yield just so happens to blow up over a major metropolitan US city? Is that what you want me—hell, and the good citizens of these United States—to believe?”
“Uh...yes?” Harold said, not sure of exactly what else to say.
Saul grunted in disbelief. “I thought the boys at NASA were supposed to keep an eye out for all the space rocks whizzing by the planet, give us grown-ups enough time to go do something about it? Isn’t that why you squints need so much money, so you can watch the sky with all your fancy probes and telescopes?”
Harold took off his glasses and wiped the sweat from its rim with his tie. “Normally yes, but in this case they...um...missed this one.” He gave the president an uncomfortable look.
Marcia gave a quick nod of acknowledgement to Harold. He’s not comfortable discussing the crazy stuff out in the open, but unfortunately, the time for discretion has passed. She turned her attention to General Adams. Most of these high ranking military types have a stick up their ass about taking orders from a female Commander-in-Chief. General Hernandez warned me about Saul, but the Chemical, Biological, Radiological, and Nuclear unit is under his command so we have to manage him. “General Adams, please be patient. New information has come to light that will clarify things. Dr. Donaldson, please continue.”
“Thank you Madam President. Well, as General Adams alluded to, NASA’s Near Earth Orbit program typically discovers and tracks asteroids and comets that intersect earth’s orbit or have the potential to collide with the planet, hopefully soon enough to give us an opportunity to destroy or divert them.” Harold coughed several times then took a sip of water. Here we go, he thought. “This asteroid, named H21-627B, was discovered about a year ago, as it crossed the orbit of Jupiter, At that time, it was determined that its trajectory would bring it no closer than five hundred thousand kilometers to earth, comfortably outside the moon’s orbit, and therefore it posed no threat to the planet. Of course, after the collision, the NEO team reconstructed the asteroid’s trajectory to determine where they had made their mistake. It turns out that they did not make a mistake. Asteroid H21-627B was not supposed to collide with earth.”
“Well, obviously something entered our airspace, exploded, and made a big mess of the fourth largest city in our great nation,” Saul said, “so either a space rock hit us or it didn't. Even an old grunt like me learned enough high school physics to know a body traveling in space doesn't just change speed or direction by its little lonesome. So what the hell happened?”
Harold shuffled his notes nervously in his hands. “Well, somewhere near the orbit of Mars the asteroid changed direction, and that change put it on a collision course with earth.”
“Oh that's just pure bullshit!” Saul said.
A collective gasp permeated the room, followed by the drone of many questions being asked at once.
“Ok everyone, please, please be quiet,” Marcia said, raising her voice above the din of confused chatter. She waited until the room was quiet again, then she continued, “General Adams, the entire rescue and relief effort has ground to a halt because of this anomaly. If we don't find a solution quickly, in addition to the hundreds of thousands of people already dead, tens of thousands, possibly millions more, could die. The press is already calling our lack of response Kinsdale’s Katrina, and I refuse to have the legacy of that debacle associated with my presidency. So I would appreciate it if you would listen carefully to the testimony and advice of the experts gathered here today. Many lives depend on us getting this right.”
Saul visibly stiffened. “Ma’am, I am well aware of the seriousness of the situation and the cataclysmic loss of life. My CBRN team is prepared to deal with every plausible scenario our enemies could throw at us. It is for this
precise reason that we shouldn't be wasting our time talking about space rocks.”
“General, I understand your frustration,” Marcia said, then she looked around the room, “and I know many of you have questions, but please let Dr. Donaldson finish his report.” She gave Harold the nod to continue.
“The NEO team determined that the asteroid changed course between Mars and the asteroid belt, then slowed down so it would intersect with earth instead of continuing on its expected trajectory. The initial hypothesis was that H21-627B had collided with another body, one of millions that inhabit the asteroid belt, causing it to change course. This conclusion, however, was not shared by everyone on the science team. Considering the volume of space involved and the density of the objects in the asteroid belt, the chances of asteroid H21-627B colliding with anything in the belt are astronomically small.”
“But that is what happened, right?” said Craig White, Administrator of the Federal Emergency Management Agency, “The probability might be small, but it wasn’t zero, correct?”
“Yes, although small,” Harold said, “there was a chance that the asteroid collided with another body in the asteroid belt, but a more recent analysis by the NEO team, one that we received just this morning—he held up a sheaf of papers—points to an incredible, but statistically more likely possibility; the asteroid was an extraterrestrial craft and it intentionally changed course for earth.”
The Scourge Page 21
