by Chad Josey
SECRET SALVATION
PART ONE
CHAD JOSEY
Copyright
SECRET SALVATION
Copyright © 2017 by Chad Josey
http://www.ChadJosey.com
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever without permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published by Hicks Creek Press
First ebook edition, 2017
ISBN-10: 0-9994959-0-9 (paperback)
ISBN-13: 978-0-9994959-0-2 (paperback)
ISBN-10: 0-9994959-1-7 (e-book)
ISBN-13: 978-0-9994959-1-9 (e-book)
SECRET SALVATION
Copyright
Prologue
1-Eden
2-Rachel
3-Graduation
4-Destiny
5-Paris
6-9/11
7-Discovery
8-J.F.K.
9-Somebody’s Watching
10-Insomnia
11-Paranoia
12-The Will
13-Polaroid
14-There’s Only Yes
15-Eli
16-The Code
17-Singles Cruise
18-Liz
19-Secret Told
20-Aftermath
21-Acceptance
22-Holiday
23-Deception
24-Safety
25-Confessions
26-Arrival
27-Launch
Epilogue
About The Author
For my wife, Amanda. Thank you for your love and support through this creative endeavor with your words of encouragement. You give me strength.
Prologue
ELI BISHOP stood in the shadows of the House Chamber inside the Capitol Building. A sly grin appeared when he heard his words he had penned as the President spoke before the Joint Session of Congress. The Eden Foundation’s plans to save humanity were underway… to reach Salvation.
Now it is time to take longer strides—time for a great new American enterprise—time for this nation to take a clearly leading role in space achievement, which in many ways may hold the key to our future on Earth.
I believe we possess all the resources and talents necessary. But, the facts of the matter are that we have never made the national decisions or marshaled the national resources required for such leadership.
… No single space project in this period will be more impressive to mankind or more important for the long-range exploration of space, and none will be so difficult or expensive to accomplish…. in the very real sense, it will not be one man going to the Moon. If we make this judgment affirmatively, it will be an entire nation…
… Perhaps beyond the Moon. Perhaps to the very end of the solar system itself… let it be clear that I am asking the Congress and the country to accept a firm commitment to a new course of action—a course, which will last for many years, and carry very heavy costs…
- John F. Kennedy, President of the United States
May 25, 1961
1-Eden
PRESENT - Colorado, 9:47 a.m.
1,835 Days Prior to Impact
TORRENTS OF BROWN DUST spun in the air trailing the limo as it sped into the darkening canopy of pine trees blocking out the sunlight; a thick and dusty reminder they were on a road less traveled. An hour had elapsed since Dr. Joseph Bishop had passed any signs of civilization from his back-seat vantage point.
The cityscape of Denver had long left the limo’s rearview mirror. Glorious snow-capped mountains rose before the car as it turned off the main road to a hidden dirt path paralleled by a small stream meandering through the thick evergreen forest.
The tinted privacy window inside the limo slid down behind the driver’s shoulder. The driver was immaculate. He wore a crisp, white dress shirt under his black suit and tie, topped off with a plain, black driving cap. An oddly familiar red, metal lapel pin with a white outline of a circle within a triangle stood out against his black jacket.
His leather-gloved hands clenched the steering wheel tight wrangling the car down the gravel path. The driver made eye contact through his mirror with his passenger.
“Dr. Bishop, we will be at the Eden Foundation in fifteen soon.”
“Thank you, Thomas.”
Vibrations filled the car from the pebbled road as the privacy window hummed closed. The announcement gave Dr. Joseph Bishop, Joe to his closest friends, the opportunity to review his notes and make last-minute annotations.
Joe had met Thomas only two days earlier at Joe’s house in Stony Brook, New York. The Eden Foundation had provided Thomas as Joe’s personal driver to JFK, his escort onboard the Foundation’s private jet, and his driver upon their arrival in Colorado.
The two men had spoken few words. It was not for lack of trying on Joe’s part. Thomas maintained a serious appearance, not once cracking a smile. Joe imagined Thomas as his personal bodyguard given his muscular build.
Joe placed his notes into his backpack, twisted the top of his Mont Blanc pen given to him by his wife Mary, and slid it into the liner pocket of his blazer. Joe sighed and peered out the window admiring the landscape. Feeling a ping of nervousness, a bead of sweat formed below his hairline.
A promising benefactor, the Eden Foundation had offered a large sum of money for Joe’s presentation, today. His goal is to parlay the success of his speech to receive full funding for his continued research identifying the genetic markers of certain cancers, which will someday help advance a cure. This goal drove Joe through university as he had made a promise to his deceased mother, Rachel, who had passed due to a brain tumor when Joe was only ten.
The winding stream paralleling the limousine expanded, stretching the distance between the roadside and the opposite shoreline. White foam raced over the smooth, black rocks drawn out between the banks of the forming river. A light drizzle peppered the windows as the sun disappeared behind billowing clouds. Darkness from the thicket of pine trees above them hid away the remaining light.
Joe rubbed the underside of his wedding ring with his thumb. A nervous habit he had developed over the past fourteen years.
A tall metal fence suddenly eclipsed his view of the river. Razor wire curled and danced along the top of the solid wall with the passing speed of the limo.
Joe peered ahead through the rear passenger window. A small building protruded from the metal fence. Thomas slowed the limo coming to a stop. A figure of a security guard dressed in a black uniform approached the driver’s window, humming as it lowered. A red lapel pin matched Thomas’s and was noticeable against the guard’s black clothes.
“I have Dr. Bishop, here,” Thomas said.
The guard attempted to peek into the back of the stretch limousine. The tinted windows prevented him from seeing Joe.
Satisfied, the guard spoke into a microphone affixed to his shoulder. A large, rusting pulley spun above the metal fence sliding open the wall. Thomas drove the limo inside the gate.
The dirt path continued to a bland, one-story building. Tall pine trees speckled the land between the road and the structure; perfect protection and cover to keep the facility secret.
The limo parked parallel to the curb in front of the barren building. Silence filled the inside of the car. Thomas opened the back door.
“Dr. Bishop, Mr. D’Angelo will meet you inside the building.”
“Okay. Tha
nk you, Thomas.”
Joe stepped out of the limo and placed his backpack over his shoulder as he approached the building. The exterior was pale brown absent any windows or signs. Only Thomas and Joe stood outside.
The drizzle collected on the lens of Joe’s wire-rimmed glasses. As the droplets grew larger, he wiped his left hand across clearing his view as the door to the building opened.
A tall man wearing a white linen suit with a bright-blue dress shirt and dark-blue tie approached Joe. His muscular shoulders wanted to burst through the form-fitting Italian clothes. The white suit contrasted against the stark, desolate backdrop of the compound and especially flaunted his red lapel pin.
The two men only had limited contact through email and one phone call. Today, was their first meeting; a day changing Joe’s life forever.
“Good morning, Dr. Bishop. I’m Gabriel. Welcome to the Eden Foundation. I hope you had a good flight and enjoyed the hotel last night.”
“Like I said over the phone last week, call me Joseph or Joe.” They shook hands as they greeted each other. Joe’s hand crushed inside of Gabriel’s fist.
“Okay then, Joe it is. And, your flight—”
“I’ve never flown in a private jet. It was great, and the hotel was the best I’ve ever stayed.”
Gabriel held open the door for Joe as they entered the building with the door closing behind them. They were alone inside a dimly lit lobby absent any pictures, plants, or furnishing. One lone, metal chair sat next to a closed door opposite the entrance.
“So, what do you think?”
“About this place or my presentation this afternoon?”
Joe scanned around the inside of the building. The vacant lobby, the echo of their footsteps indicated they were alone in the spacious building.
“Both.” Gabriel did not let Joe answer. “Here, let’s take a short tour of our facility.”
“When do the other guests for the presentation arrive?”
Gabriel opened the door beside the metal chair and led Joe into a hallway. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead as they passed several closed, white doors along both sides.
“There’s plenty of time to talk about your work. But, I know what you must think?”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“Our building doesn’t look that impressive, does it?”
“Well, um, it’s not that…” Joe found his right words, “it’s just when we spoke on the phone, you mentioned the Eden Foundation is ‘doing exciting things.’ That an audience had interest in my research.”
“Yes, Joe, that is all true. We are doing otherworldly things. And, many have an interest in your work.”
Disbelief crept into Joe. This place seemed like a prison, not a world-class research facility, which further fed his skeptical belief in the Foundation.
“This facility is one of our many locations. We focus more on our work and the knowledge we share rather than fancy furnishings. Let’s go in here.”
Gabriel opened a door and led Joe into a small room with a single table and chair. Another chair sat in front of a large, flat-panel television screen on the opposite wall. Uneasiness rumbled from Joe’s gut.
“Take a seat, and I will start with a short introduction video. Can I get you some water?”
“No, I’m fine, thanks.”
The lights in the room dimmed. In the center of the screen, the television came alive with a picture of Earth spinning taken from a satellite. Mathematical equations and coordinates radiated to the right side. On the left, four images of an elongated, black object appeared. The top image dated 1957 was small and fuzzy. The bottom one dated 2012 was larger and crystal clear. As the pictures appeared, Gabriel walked between Joe and the screen.
“What if I told you we know the exact moment the world will end? Even with this knowledge, nothing will save Earth. Everyone and everything here will be gone in an instant.” Gabriel snapped his fingers; the sound bounced off the cold, empty walls.
The perpetual smile Gabriel had worn since Joe had arrived vanished. Gabriel stood stern and serious. A curiosity consumed Joe forcing his attention to Gabriel, not the screen.
“Life on Earth will vanish. But, what if I also told you that your research holds the key to sustaining the future of humanity?”
Gabriel’s question provided truth to Joe’s theory. “That explains this place. It’s a cult. What’s my cancer research have to do with this?” Joe stood. “I knew it was too good to be true. This whole damn thing is a joke, right?”
“If only I were crazy, then everything would be okay. But, please, Dr. Bishop… Joe, sit down. I will explain why Eden has asked you to join Project Salvation.”
Joe remained standing and turned away from Gabriel backing from his chair. The morning had become a blur. Long gone was the comfort of breakfast in the five-star hotel in Denver.
In the quietness of no response to Gabriel, Joe heard his departed Grandma Liz’s voice in his head with her thick Texas accent reminding Joe he had made a promise to Gabriel to present his work. Liz had assumed custody of Joe after Rachel’s death since he was an orphan. His father, Jacob, had died before Joe was born. Liz was no stranger to sadness after losing her husband, Eli, to an accident one Thanksgiving Day many years ago.
A promise is a promise. Joe stopped short of bolting from the room and turned back to Gabriel returning to the chair.
“You flew me out here. You put me up in a very nice hotel last night and promised me a lot of money for my presentation. I’m still getting paid, right?”
“Yes, here is your fifty-thousand, now.” Gabriel handed him two white envelopes. “In fact, here is another one.”
Joe's eyes grew wide as he fingered through a thousand, one-hundred-dollar bills.
“Joe, the money does not matter anyway. The Eden Foundation has faith that your work is valuable in sustaining the future of human life. That’s why we chose you for our program. As I share this information with you, I think you will be happy to join us. The alternative is to die with everyone else.”
“Um, okay. So, tell me… how does the world end?”
Gabriel slid a metal chair across the floor next to Joe. A piercing, scratching sound echoed through the cold room. Joe focused his attention back to the screen as Gabriel sat beside him. The spinning Earth with its mathematical equations and fuzzy pictures intrigued Joe.
“What you see here is an image into space captured by the Hale Telescope at the Palomar Observatory in California in 1957. Unfortunately, the quality of the picture is not that great. But, we can compare this to the same picture taken from the Hubble Space Telescope in 2012.”
“Sure, there is color, and I see more detail.”
Gabriel held a wireless clicker and pointed it to the screen. Each of the four progressively more clear pictures zoomed out. Numerous white dots provided a backdrop to the elongated object in each frame.
“Look at the pictures.” Gabriel stood to point to a black smudge on the 1957 photo.
“Okay, in the bottom picture the smudge is clear and… a little larger… and?”
“Yes, this newer picture is more clear, but shouldn’t most things closer to a camera be that way?”
“You mean, just because the Hubble Telescope is in orbit and higher up, the object is more clear and larger?”
“Yes, but it’s not that, this object is much closer to Earth in the last picture.”
“The object? What the hell is it?”
“We have identified this as CIE.57.20”
“Ooh,” Joe said mocking back.
“The 57 is for 1957, the year of discovery. And, the 20 is when the event will occur in 2020—”
“And, CIE?” Joe interrupted. He enjoyed riddles, but Gabriel had tested his patience.
After a long pause and a deep breath, Gabriel spoke his words in a slow manner. “CIE stands for Confirmed Impact Event.”
“Impact Event? Impact of what? A meteor? A comet?”
“CIE.57.20 is larger
than what we think of as a meteor. We have identified this as a planetoid, larger than our Moon, but smaller than Earth.”
“A planetoid?”
“They are leftover fragments when the universes were created. As planets were being formed and colliding together, large chunks of debris merged. Based on collisions and gravitational pulls from planets in our solar system, planetoids are pushed along different orbits around our Sun.”
Joe understood Gabriel’s description of a planetoid. Growing up in a Houston suburb where many families had involvement with NASA, his high school offered many astronomy classes, which had been Joe’s favorite subject.
“Okay, so you are saying this planetoid will hit Earth? And, you’ve known about this since 1957? Where will it hit? What kind of damage? What has anyone tried to do to stop it? And, why hasn’t this information been made public?”
“Lots of great questions, and over the next two days I will provide the answers. After the first observations in the ’60s, the calculations confirmed a collision is certain. It doesn’t matter where. Unfortunately, given its size, material make-up, speed… where it hits… nothing will be left.”
Gabriel gave Joe a red binder with pictures and calculations. Joe flipped through the pages. “After sixty years, there must be a plan to destroy it or push it away from Earth?”
“The Moon race in the ‘60s… well, this was a cover story by us and the Soviets to get to the Moon. Ours are the only governments aware of CIE.57.20. Once we got to the Moon, we established monitoring systems to collect more data.”
“Wait, you are telling me the Russians know about this, and the Moon was nothing more than a fact-finding mission?”
“Yes, that was the initial purpose, but there’s more.”
“That’s one helluva conspiracy then?”
“Oh, we are only beginning.” Gabriel walked behind his chair to the table by the door. His calm demeanor vanished as he lifted a pitcher from the table. His hand developed a noticeable shake as water poured into a glass.
