Hold On! - Tomorrow (A Sci-Fi Thriller)

by Peter Darley

  Myers smiled heartily. “I’d like to congratulate you on your performance in New York. I understand a number of lives were spared because of your intervention.”

  “Indeed,” Heather said. “I was one of them.”

  Crane stepped forward. “This is Ms. Heather Addison, former chief executive of the Zenith Corporation’s New York office. We’ve just recruited her as our official PR representative for Project: Interceptor.”

  Myers offered Heather his hand. “Please accept my condolences for what happened. It was a terrible tragedy. The president is en route to New York as we speak. There’ll be a public address tonight.”

  “Do you know when the city will be restored?” Heather said.

  “I regret to say it’s too early to tell. But I can assure you, the rebuilding will commence as soon as the damage has been assessed.”

  Crane led Myers and his entourage around the lab and introduced Tito, who was visibly eager to reveal his expertise to their esteemed visitor.

  B.J. edged closer to Heather and said, “It looks like the old man’s pulling it off. Even the veep seems to like you.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t trust him.”

  “Why not?”

  “He’s a politician.”

  “You’re such a cynic. He’s pretty religious, you know.”

  Heather rolled her eyes. “Gimme a break. They all play the ‘God’ card just to appease the opinion polls.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. Has Uncle Jed provided you with accommodation?”

  “I don’t know, yet.”

  B.J. smiled slyly. “You could always stay at my place.”

  She looked up at him and grinned. “I might just take you up on that, Interceptor.”

  ***

  B.J. looked ahead into pitch darkness. There was a strong feeling of familiarity, even though there was nothing around him. He looked at his hands, wondering how he could see them with no light source. Regardless, he felt strangely at home here. There was a sense of love in this barren void. Something about it told him the darkness was merely awaiting light, like a blank cinema screen awaiting a projection.

  He walked farther through the blackness, barely conscious of the fact that there was nothing solid beneath his feet.

  He noticed something in the distance, but it was unclear. It was something akin to movement, but it had no discernible shape. He strained his eyes to see it. Slowly, it seemed to be forming. “Hello?”

  Gradually, an outline appeared. As it came closer, B.J. saw a smooth black helmet, and then black Kevlar attire with a utility belt. He sensed a lump in his throat accompanied by the swelling of tears. “Oh, my God . . . Dad?”

  Eight

  Mentor

  B.J. carefully approached the black-garbed figure before him. The man stopped in his tracks and removed his helmet. B.J. gazed upon him, fascinated that he bore his own face, albeit with longer hair.

  “Hi, Son,” the man smiled.

  “Dad!” B.J. beamed, and hurried over to hug him. “How—?”

  “I don’t know. I feel like I’ve been wandering around here forever, and yet . . . no time at all.”

  “I have to be dreaming.”

  “Maybe. Who knows?”

  “I’ve always wondered what it would be like if I ever met you. Just daydreaming.”

  “Of course. I want to help you. I know everything about you. I’ve seen your whole life.”

  B.J. stood back and studied his father’s face. He doesn’t seem to be any older than me. “How can you have seen my whole life?”

  “I don’t know, and there are things I can’t tell you. What will be will be.”

  “So, what can you tell me, Dad?” B.J. said as they walked through the void.

  “There are things you have to live through. Terrible things happened in the past, but you’re going to make it right.”

  “What terrible things?”

  “You’ll find out, but you’re not ready yet. You will be greater than I could ever have been, and the world will owe you the greatest of debts.”

  B.J. paused and turned to him, bewildered. “Do you know what’s happening? Do you know what’s causing the tragedies?”

  “Not really. All I know is, you’re facing threats far worse than anything I ever faced.”

  “Can you help me?”

  “I’ve been helping you since the day you were born. Everything you need is already there. Just listen to that silent voice inside you, and do what it says. I know you do, anyway. You can’t help yourself.” He smiled and pulled B.J. closer to him with a clenched fist across his shoulder.

  B.J. tried to process the impossible situation. His father was dead, and yet there he stood, talking with him. Was he simply wishing for it? Or was there more to it than met the eye?

  “Whatever situation you’re in, I’m going to be with you,” his father said. “You’re more than you think you are.”

  “So, you’re gonna be sort of like my mentor?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Boy, you don’t give much away, do you?”

  His father laughed. “Where would the fun be in that?”

  B.J. chuckled while his father put the black helmet back on. He then receded into the distance. “Until next time, Son. I love you. Say hi to your mom for me.”

  B.J. awoke with a start. He noticed it was dark outside through a crack in the drapes. A moment of waking disorientation delayed his realization he’d been sleeping on the couch.

  His mind reeled. Had that really been his father? He closed his eyes again in an attempt to recall the dream. Was there anything his father had said that could prove it was more than it seemed?

  “There are things I can’t tell you. What will be will be.”

  That was pretty obvious.

  “Terrible things happened in the past, but you’re going to make it right.”

  B.J. had always suspected that. Everyone had always been cagey when he asked too many questions about his father.

  “You will be greater than I could ever have hoped to have been, and the world will owe you the greatest of debts.”

  Was that just his ego and wishful thinking?

  “Are you OK?”

  He looked up and saw Heather standing in the bedroom doorway with one of his t-shirts ending at her knees.

  “You were mumbling in your sleep,” she said.

  “I just had a really crazy dream, that’s all. What time is it?”

  “A little after six.”

  He rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Good timing then. We have to get ready for work soon.”

  “It’s amazing. Two days ago I was the chief executive of Zenith, New York. Now, I’m the official, government PR rep for a superhero. And I’m having a sleepover with him.”

  “I know. I do think ‘superhero’ is a bit of an exaggeration, though. I just can’t figure out why you don’t want to get accustomed to your new apartment. After all, Uncle Jed arranged it for you.”

  She walked over and knelt beside him. Her head bowed sadly. “In time. I couldn’t face being alone tonight. I lost my home, everything I’d worked for, and almost everyone I know. Suddenly, I’m in a strange city, I get thrust into this crazy, top secret scheme with you, and I just don’t know which way to turn. I haven’t had time to get my head around it.”

  He considered her words compassionately. So much had happened, and he hadn’t taken the time to think about what she must be going through. She’d seemed so strong and feisty when he’d rescued her from the rooftop in New York. Perhaps it had impaired his judgment of where her true needs lay. She was a human being, not a machine.

  But he had to admit, it felt wonderful having her stay in his apartment. Of late, coming home had become a lonesome experience. “Was the bed OK?”

  “Wonderful, if somewhat . . . lonely,” she said shrewdly.

  With his blanket wrapped around his waist, he stood. “I didn’t want to rush anything or presume, H.”

  “We’re
not exactly strangers, B.J.”

  “I know that.”

  “Look, after work, we’ll talk about this? There’s a lot I need to say.”

  “Sure.”

  She smiled eagerly. “OK, let’s do breakfast.”

  ***

  Jed Crane sat at his desk, transfixed by a holoscreen news broadcast:

  “Reports are coming in from England. The City of Leicester has been virtually wiped out by a freak earthquake, affiliating it with a fraternity of global cities where the only requirement is devastating destruction. As with many other locations to suffer such a tragedy, Leicester is considered by geologists to be an earthquake-safe zone, heightening the mystery even further. This is Lisa Dubois, for Fox News.”

  “What the hell is happening?” he murmured. “And where in the hell is Leicester?”

  Gripped with curiosity, he opened up a web search for a holomap of the UK and entered the name of the city. Interesting. Twenty-eight miles south of Nottingham. Wasn’t that Robin Hood’s hangout? But Leicester was geologically sound, and in the middle of nowhere. How could an earthquake have hit in a place like that?

  His desk phone beeped, startling him. “Yes . . .? What . . . ? Of course. I’ll have him out there right away.”

  B.J. gazed at Tito and Heather through the INT-Nine’s helmet lenses. “OK. All set.”

  Tito touched a sensor pad on the lab’s control panel and turned back to B.J. “Do you see anything at all?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Can you see us?”

  B.J. looked through the lenses trying to ascertain even the slightest difference. “Yes, I can see you. It’s no different from how it was before.”

  “All right,” Tito said. “Take the helmet off.”

  B.J. removed the helmet and found himself in pitch darkness. “Whoa. I can’t see a thing.”

  “That’s because I shut down the lighting. Put the helmet back on.”

  B.J. complied. Immediately, it appeared to be perfectly normal lighting again. “That’s awesome.”

  The sound of the back door opening interrupted them, the elevator’s internal lighting providing a shard of illumination.

  Jed Crane’s urgent tone echoed across the lab. “Hello? Would someone put the light back on, please?”

  B.J. watched as Tito’s hand scrambled across the sensor pad. As he removed the helmet, the lights came back on.

  “Sir, we were just testing the infra-blue photoreceptors,” Tito said.

  “That’s fine Tito, but we’ve got ourselves an emergency.”

  B.J. came toward Crane with a quickened pace. “What’s going on?”

  “I just received a call. Des Moines, Iowa, has begun to experience tremors. I want you out there immediately. Do what you can to assist the emergency services.” Crane turned to Tito. “Please tell me the armor has a full charge.”

  “It has, sir.”

  “Peak speed?”

  “Undetermined, but Mach-One for definite, and it’s variable within fifty miles an hour, dependent on atmospheric temperature.”

  “It’ll have to do. It’s over a thousand miles away. I want you to set up a link with the helmet’s visor and patch it through to the situation room. Monitor all air traffic and keep Agent Drake advised. At that speed he’s likely to crash into a passenger jet before he even sees it.”

  “There’s no need for that, sir. The helmet is connected to all air traffic control information via satellite. He’ll know about any obstacles in his path before we do.”

  Crane caught Heather’s attention. “I want you in the situation room. Take notes. This is going to be your first official report.” He approached B.J. with a look of profound concern. “Do what you can. I’m counting on you.”

  “Of course.”

  “All right. Suit up, B.J. Follow me, Ms. Addison.”

  Following Crane, Heather glanced back at B.J. with a hint of panic in her eyes. He was sure he saw her mouth the words ‘I love you’, and his heart missed a beat.

  He threw off his office suit, sprinted over to the INT-Nine, and donned the armor.

  Tito called after him. “B.J.”

  He watched Tito freeze—as though he was awkward about saying what he wanted to say. “What?”

  “Just . . . be careful, all right?”

  “You got it.”

  As he approached the elevator, he heard a faint echo in the helmet: You need to be strong. What you are about to face will be heartbreaking. You can do it, Son. I’ll be with you every step of the way.

  He tapped the helmet, questioning his own sanity.

  Stepping into the elevator, he touched a sensor on his right wrist, and AOR rock filled the helmet.

  Nine

  Katie

  Close your eyes and see . . . And I’ll be there everywhere you go . . .

  B.J. considered the lyrics booming through the MP3 player in his helmet. As many times as he’d heard the song, this time it had an entirely new context. Would his dad really be there ‘everywhere he went’? Was the first Brandon Drake—The Interceptor—truly his silent partner, guide, and mentor? Or was it all in his head? Had he fallen into the trap of finding patterns in things that weren’t there?

  Tito’s voice came through the helmet’s speakers, cutting off the song. “What are you listening to?”

  “Thanks, Tito. I was just getting into that.”

  “What was it?”

  “Close Your Eyes by Charming Grace.”

  “Never heard of them.”

  “That’s OK. They never heard of you either.”

  “Yeah, well, you might wanna consider turning it down. I just had a call from Director Crane. He’s monitoring you with a party of senators, and right now, the situation room sounds like a rock concert.”

  “Oh, shit. They can hear this?”

  “And every word you say, so tone down the language too.”

  “All right, you got it.” B.J. exhaled his vexation. The realization that he’d been living out some kind of hero fantasy, with its own soundtrack, caused him to cringe—especially with the discovery his every move was being monitored. The fact that the situation room would’ve been filled with his song almost had the creepy implication they were privy to his thoughts.

  “According to the monitor down here,” Tito said, “you’re around halfway into Illinois, so your ETA in Des Moines is thirty-nine minutes, thirty-eight seconds at your current speed.”

  “Thanks. Another thirty-nine minutes with no music. That’s just great, Tito. I was having a blast up here with that album. Do you have any idea how monotonous clouds can be after a few minutes?”

  Total silence filled the helmet. Even the background echo of the lab was gone. He knew the line had been cut off. Oh, boy. Here it comes.

  “Agent Drake, keep your mind on your mission. This isn’t a game,” Crane said with a rebuking tone.

  “Yes, sir. I apologize. Are there any further incident reports?”

  “The quake hasn’t reached its peak yet. But when you arrive, you’ll be in the thick of it, so keep your wits about you and your mind on your job.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Heather felt uncomfortable surrounded by senators in the situation room. With her gaze fixed on the monitor screen, she was virtually seeing through B.J.’s eyes. Being in an alien environment, surrounded by strangers, filled her mind with the daunting sensation of ‘first day at a new job’. Adding to her anxiety was the sight of Des Moines shaking apart while B.J. headed into the catastrophe.

  As he came in lower, the carnage on the ground became clearer. Emergency personnel and fire engines scurried around on the streets of what had once been dubbed the ‘wealthiest city in America’. Now, high rises were crumbling, Wells Fargo Arena was becoming reduced to rubble, and skywalks in the Downtown Core shattered, throwing hundreds to their deaths.

  B.J. landed amidst a team of firefighters outside a department store. The sounds of chaos came through the speakers in the situation room.r />
  The fire chief turned to B.J. with a momentary startled look on his face. “Oh, it’s you,” he said. “We received the call about an hour ago that you were coming. What’s your plan?”

  “To get as many people to safety as possible,” B.J. said. “I need a report on the situation.”

  The image on the screen shook as another tremor took hold. B.J. lost his footing along with the other emergency service workers, which was fleetingly apparent from the rapid movement of the helmet’s lenses.

  Several firefighters exited the dusty building helping dust-coated civilians out into the open air. A number of them were helped onto stretchers.

  “Others are inside, still trapped,” one of the firefighters said. “Visibility is really bad. It’s just a dust cloud in there.”

  B.J.’s view turned back to the fire chief. “I’m going in.”

  The chief nodded.

  Heather glanced at her palmtop notepad beside her, remembering it was her job to take notes. Crane came round to her side and stared at the images. She looked back at the monitor. B.J. appeared to be rising slightly, and then the dusty interior of the department store zoomed toward the screen. He was flying into it. Oh, God. Be careful, B.J.

  B.J. entered the building with it shaking and breaking apart all around him. It became darker the farther he went inside, but brightened as quickly when the helmet’s photo generators activated automatically. Nevertheless, it still appeared hazy. The lenses were simply illuminating the dust.

  Humanoid blue shapes appeared within the haze. He realized the imager was picking up the heat signatures of the people who were trapped inside as blue outlines.

  He headed toward the nearest victim, but couldn’t make out if it was a male or a female. He reached out. “I can see you. Take my hand.”