by Peter Darley
“OK. What should I do?”
“I’m looking up what comes between you and the US mainland. For now, you’re doing fine. Just keep the missile in sight.”
Amy flew the shuttle craft just behind him, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of being alone. He could almost hear the cries of the people and their prayers that he would save them. It was overwhelming. I can’t do this.
You can, and you will.
“Dad, I know you’re not really there. You’re just my inner voice trying to drive me on.”
Whatever I am, this is the moment my life was all about, and what yours is all about. It will be the finest thing you will ever do, and the greatest moment in human history. Believe me, Son. This is the real thing. Tonight is the greatest.
Air Force jets arrived all around him. He glanced to his left and returned the salute of one of the pilots.
“B.J., I’ve got it,” Rosie said finally. “At your current speed you’ll be coming up to the Hawaiian Islands within ten minutes. You need to guide the missile into the Kilauea volcano.”
“But how? Won’t that release the virus?”
“No. It will destroy it, no matter how adaptable it is. No microbiological organism could possibly survive the temperatures of magma. If you can get close enough to the missile, you can use the Impact setting on your sonic force repulsors to knock it off course, and into the volcano.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, but just wait a little longer. I don’t want you hitting Mach Two prematurely. If your jets burn out, it’s all over. Wait for my cue. This is going to require precision timing.”
The wait seemed endless, even though his time readout indicated it had only been three minutes since she’d spoken.
“Now, B.J.”
He touched his wrist and selected the acceleration option. He kept his finger on the sensor until it reached its peak and then closed in on the missile. The force of the speed felt as though a giant, invisible hand was pressing against him.
He came up beside the missile within seconds. “OK, Rosie, I’m here. What should I do?”
“The volcano is coming up ahead of you. It’s on a tangent, five miles to the south. Hit the missile with Impact, and keep going until it’s in line with the volcano.”
He twisted onto his side and reached out. Twin bolts of sonic force shot from his palms, knocking the missile off course. “Rosie, it’s working.”
“Don’t stop, B.J. It still has three miles to go. Be aware, the missile is guided by autopilot. It will try to default to its pre-set trajectory.”
He fired at it again, sending it farther toward the south.
“One more, B.J., and then set the repulsors to Resistance.”
He fired again, sending the missile too far to the south.
“Get closer to it. I’ll tell you when to apply the resistance setting.”
B.J. waited for the missile to drift back, and then reached his palms out again.
“Now, B.J.”
He activated Resistance and held the sonic force against the side of the missile.
“Excellent!” Rosie said. “You’re in line with the volcano. Hold it right there and get as close as you can to the nose.”
“I think the sonic force is slowing it down,” B.J. said.
“That’s right, it is. You’re almost on top of the volcano.”
He came up beside the missile and hovered his palms over the nose. Even the resistance setting seemed to be causing the missile to veer downward.
“Set to Impact.”
“Done.” He saw the mouth of the volcano approaching.
“NOW!”
With his palms inches away from the missile’s nose, he fired the full power of the sonic force repulsors together. The missile inverted instantly, and jettisoned into the opening of the volcano.
The force of the repulsors threw B.J. one hundred feet back. However, nothing could spoil his moment of all-consuming relief.
“B.J., it’s not over,” Rosie said. “Get to the volcano immediately and give the missile another jolt.”
He flew forward. “I’m on it. But why?”
“It will still be trying to default to its original course. If it crashes into the rock, it could release the virus.”
“Oh, shit!”
He came in over the volcano. The missile was still rocketing toward the magma, although it was starting to veer to the left. He flew into the chasm, found the missile’s plume in his target sight, and fired. The missile shot down farther in a straight line, but B.J. pursued it.
He felt something burst in his left boot. Simultaneously, his speed halved. What the hell?
A readout appeared before him, flashing in red:
Jet boot failure
“I see it, B.J.,” Rosie said. “You’re nearly done. One more shot.”
He fired, but the missile was getting farther out of reach. Ice began to form across his armor as he came closer to the molten pit. It’s got to be a million degrees in here. He fired again, this time successfully. The missile shot into the magma, dissolving on impact.
The armor continued to ice over, only to melt-to-freeze-to-melt.
He slowed down, adjusted his position, and flew back up. Despite the temperature balancing mechanism, the heat was getting through the armor. With only one working jet boot, his ascent was slower than he was used to. Nevertheless, the mouth of the volcano was in sight.
Within a few seconds, he was out. Air Force jets flew all around him.
He carefully glided down to the base of the mountain and noticed the shuttle craft landing at the bottom. “It’s over Rosie. We can all relax.”
“I . . . know.”
He could tell she was crying and decided to give her time to collect herself.
Once he’d landed, he sank to his knees and removed his helmet. Amy came down the shuttle’s boarding ramp in that ghastly robe. “We did it, Amy,” he said, choked.
She ran to him and he threw his arms around her. “You did it.”
“Well, me, you, and Rosie.”
“Who’s Rosie?”
“I’ll introduce you.”
He broke the embrace and looked her in the eye. “Cheeseburger?”
Amy laughed. “You bet. When?”
His heart glowed with elation as the most magical word he could imagine came to him: “Tomorrow.”
Forty-Nine
Brave New World
May 8th, 2042
One month had passed since the destruction of the Witness missile. It had been decided that the date of the event, April 7th, would be celebrated as a world holiday known as Jubilee.
For the briefest time, every human being on earth had experienced the horror of believing their death was imminent. Something had occurred within the mindset of the world’s population—a time of pause and reflection. Every conflict had ceased. International armistice occurred without human intervention. A time of peace arose as a natural progression of the events. Religious and political contentions were set aside. The quest for dominance became a desire for union. Even the thought of disagreement became cherished, in that disagreement was still possible. Subsequently, almost nobody disagreed. All people became as one, considering themselves united under a single, common experience. Each day became a celebration under the marvel of tomorrow.
Brandon Drake, Jr. became adopted by all people in all nations. Statues of The Interceptor were erected in every city. Identical, gleaming chrome models stood outside key landmarks. The Taj Mahal in India. Kim Il-sung Square in North Korea. The Arch De Triomphe in Paris. The Australian War Memorial in Canberra. The Capitol Building in Washington D.C.
Regardless of the location in the world, passersby would stop and bow their heads to the statues in honor of the one who had saved them.
The statue of Earl Douglas Haig in Whitehall, London, had, for over a century, caused controversy among many British citizens. Having signed the death warrants of many young soldiers for cowardice, later un
derstood to be shell shock; the statue had led to great opposition. However, on May 1st, 2042, it was taken down and replaced with the statue of The Interceptor.
For now at least, the world immersed itself in a new, unified spirit.
***
B.J. walked across the back lawn of the White House in a pristine blue suit. The president walked alongside him, her hand hooked in the crook of his arm.
“How are you feeling?” she said.
He glanced at her and smiled. “Tired, actually.”
“I can understand that. You haven’t had a minute’s rest since the fateful day.”
“The toughest part has been staying invisible. Every journalist wants a piece of me. You wouldn’t believe how exhausting it is being elusive.”
“Do you feel you’re ready?”
“I guess so. I had some fine tutors showing me the ropes at the retreat. I never imagined anything like this, Madam President.”
“Jen,” she said.
“Excuse me?”
“Call me Jen.”
He chuckled awkwardly. “I can’t do that, you’re the pr—”
“Right now, you’re the most important man on earth, Brandon. By default, nobody has any authority over you. It’s lucky for us you’re the man you are.”
“OK, Jen it is. I’m B.J. Pleased to meet you.” He held his hand out jokingly, and she took it with a grin. “But calling me the most important man on earth is absurd. There’s no way I could’ve done it without Tito, Rosie, and Amy.”
“And the world knows it. They’re all doing well for themselves with the TV and radio interviews. I awarded Tito his Medal of Freedom posthumously and personally handed it to his mother. He also has a star on the Memorial Wall at Langley. Everyone who helped you is revered throughout the world.”
“They deserve to be.”
“But you were the one who went into that volcano, and the world was watching through your eyes. Do you have any reservations about your new position?”
“No. I’ve got some amazing advisors to hold my hand.” He looked away thoughtfully. “How did it happen, Jen? Myers was such a brilliant man. How could he have fallen so far?”
“Belief,” she said. “It causes the mind to interpret the most despicable acts as virtuous if the believer thinks those acts are divinely endorsed. It has caused so many wars and unthinkable bloodshed throughout the centuries.”
“I just don’t get it.”
She stopped in her tracks and gripped his arms. “What do you believe in, Brandon?”
“Reason, I guess.”
“Then you can’t go wrong. Back in two-thousand-ten, when I was at Harvard, there was a radical preacher named Fred Phelps.”
“Can’t say I know of him.”
“He led a very small congregation in Kansas. They used to picket the funerals of soldiers, gloating over the fact that those brave young men had lost their lives.”
B.J. looked at her, open-jawed. “Why?”
“They believed that every death, every tragedy, and every natural disaster, even the attacks of nine-eleven, were God’s punishment against a nation that tolerated homosexuality. They thought they were duty-bound to rejoice in the misfortunes of others on account of it.”
“That’s unbelievable. It’s sick.”
“Yes, it is. The Phelps’ were the most hated family in America. I always used to wonder what would happen if someone like Fred Phelps had power and formidable resources. It used to scare the hell out of me. Little did I know my own classmate would become that someone.”
“Myers?”
“Yes. This had obviously been his plan from the beginning. He fooled every one of us. But I have a very good feeling about his successor, regardless of how reluctant he is.”
B.J. laughed. “Uncle Jed will get the hang of it in no time.”
“He’s not a politician. But he’s the man I trust the most, and that’s what counts. It’s a brave new world. Nobody has experienced anything like this. It’s new territory for us all. A highly experienced politician would fare no better than Vice President Crane.”
B.J. checked his new designer Z-Watch. “I think it’s time.”
They turned around and made their way back across the lawn.
“Before we greet everyone,” she said, “there’s a young man I granted an audience with you. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Sure. Who?”
“Someone who really wants to see you.”
They stepped into the White House and were guided by an entourage of advisors into a private living room.
A young man in a suit stood up from a leather armchair. B.J. thought he looked familiar, but he couldn’t place from where.
“Ambassador Drake,” the president said. “This is Mark Slater. You saved his life during the L.A. disaster. He was—”
“With the fire department,” B.J. said with a quiet tone, mesmerised by the sight of the man.
“Mark wrote to me, asking if there was any way he could meet with you again. All he wants to do is shake your hand.”
He came closer to Mark and extended his hand. “Buddy, you did all this just to shake my hand?”
Mark took his hand into his own with an impassioned grip. “You saved my life, Ambassador Drake.”
“B.J., my friend.” Unable to contain his emotion, he gripped Mark’s shoulders and hugged him. “You’re the real hero. I told you that.”
“Brandon, they’re waiting,” the president said.
He glanced back and nodded. “Mark’s coming with us.”
“Oh, no,” Mark said. “I couldn’t.”
“I want you there.”
“If that’s what Ambassador Drake wants, how can I object?” the president said.
“All right.”
They stepped out into the main foyer to be greeted by the newly-appointed Vice President Jed Crane with his assistants, Deborah Beaumont and Juanita Fernandez. Mark was ceremoniously escorted outside.
“How are you doing, Uncle Jed?” B.J. said.
Jed shook his hand. “As proud as I could be.”
Rosie stepped forward from among them and B.J. beamed. “Rosie, it’s so good to see you. And congratulations on being awarded the Medal of Freedom. You certainly deserve it. I apologize for not being around for the ceremony.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek.
“You’ve had a lot to deal with, B.J. Don’t mention it. It’s good to have you back.”
“Thanks. So, are we ready?”
They all concurred and stepped outside.
An ocean of citizens and media personnel appeared before them. Police and FBI agents created a barrier between the crowd and the front steps, although there was an air of composure all around.
B.J. looked to his right and smiled at his family. Heather, Belinda, David Spicer, Tyler, Emily and Jake, were seated as guests of honor at the front of the building. He couldn’t fail to notice the undeniable pride in their eyes. Mark had been seated beside them.
To his left, he was overjoyed to see Woody Schuster appearing so dynamic, tanned, with slick hair and sunglasses, a clearly athletic physique, and a top quality suit. B.J. was taken aback by how handsome Woody really was.
Even more astounding was Woody holding hands with Amy Fairchild sitting beside him. B.J. assumed they must’ve got together during their TV interview tours. It warmed his heart that out of something so terrible, such happiness had arisen.
Seated alongside Woody and Amy were Phil, Sharon, and Payden, looking on proudly. He’d been informed that all of them had been awarded the Medal of Freedom for their part in the C.O.T. crisis. Congratulations, guys. You can kiss the bad times goodbye.
The president stepped up to the podium and spoke into a digital microphone pad. “Today is a tremendous honor for me. The man you have all been waiting to see has been indisposed for several weeks, but I am proud to present him to you today.” She looked at B.J. with a broad grin. “I give you our Ambassador for World Peace, Brandon Drake, Jr.” She stepped a
side and gestured to the microphone. “Ambassador Drake?”
The crowd applauded and cheered passionately. The noise was overpowering, and B.J. felt like he was falling under a trance. Thousands of screaming voices seemed to merge into a droning hum.
Eventually, it died down, giving him the opportunity to begin his speech. “I can’t thank you all enough. I understand how you want to know what it was like for me on April seventh. First, I have to tell you, I wasn’t aware you were all with me in the helmet.”
The crowd laughed, and he waited a moment before resuming. “To tell you the truth, I was scared to death. I didn’t just have the responsibility of saving my own life. I also had the responsibility of saving the lives of everyone on the planet, and it was a lottery win. We had one shot at it. It required precision timing to line up the missile with the volcano, and then for me to knock it into the lava. That was the most tense moment. I was flying with the missile at twice the speed of sound. As I approached that volcano, I had window of three-hundredths of a second to get it right.”
The crowd was silent. He noticed hundreds of them shuddering. “But I couldn’t have done it alone, and I’m not just saying that.” He turned to Amy, then looked across at Rosie, and waved them over to him. “These two ladies are Amy Fairchild, who helped me escape from the Cronus Station and keep up with the missile, and my ground handler, Professor Rosemary Butler. Do not forget them. I cannot stress that enough. I could not have done this without them. We all owe these ladies our lives.” He paused for a moment before resuming. “What this has accomplished is a first in history. People are not trying to kill one another. We will never get another chance like this, so let’s not waste it. I have dedicated my life to preserving the world we now have. Care to join me?”
Another roar of approval filled the air. B.J. smiled and glanced at the president. Once she’d given him his cue with a subtle nod, he returned to the microphone. “If you would now excuse me, I have another appointment. Apparently, it’s a surprise.”
