Ever-Life the Two Book Set: The C.P.T Incident and Time Trust

by Andrew Sarkady

  “…I left; and came back to orientation; but, I couldn’t get the experience out of my mind.”

  “He never told you what the crisis was?”

  “Not really; I had to see how he turned out, though. Bathwaite had no problem letting me go back. So, I met him in his forties. He was in crisis again. We talked for a good fifteen hours. I was convinced that my help made a difference. Our final two meetings were during his fifties. He was in physical crisis then, heart issues. Looking back, it was all so odd to me. Each time he had gone through a life-changing event, just before I arrived. Each time I went, my urge to see him was irresistible. Of course, as part of my orientation was Bathwaite, explaining I could never repeat a particular trip; so, I could never reconcile my anxiety about the visits; so, stopped.”

  Swanson slowly stood up. “Jake, your irresistible urge? You followed irresistible urges, eh; really…Good thing you weren’t a teenager. What in blazes were you thinking, man?”

  “I realize, now; I was the one in a fog. I was addicted, selfish and a bit stupid. But, I did learn a lot. It was mutual. I thought of him as a son, if that makes any sense. And, another thing, you should know; I did give him a head-set session.”

  “You what? Christ, Jake!”

  “It just happened.”

  “I wish I had a nickel for every time I heard, ‘it just happened’. No wonder he could write the book. What else does he know that Brock could steal? My God, Man, you are Chief of Security. This man is a virgin, by our standards. Did you think of the domino effect from this; the collateral damage on those who knew him; not to mention, the obvious long term affects, on Ever-Life. If this is true and Brock succeeds, I won’t be sitting here, and we won’t have the memories, we do now, of anything that has happened. He will wipe us out; and, all that we have done, with the surface, and the Carriers.”

  Jake stood up at attention.

  “Sir; I have to say; I would go back and be with him again, if I could; or better yet, I would bring him here.”

  “Well, that is something.” Swanson wiped his mouth and returned to his chair. “Relax, relax, Jake; you look ridiculous.”

  “I have absolutely no doubts about him, Sir. But I am truly sorry about all of it. I realize; it may have an effect on us here, now; especially if it had anything to do with what happened this morning.”

  Swanson sat back with a questioning face.

  “Well, the book was not that well written, anyway. Maybe no body read it; or we would have heard about it. Let’s follow this through. Maybe you can keep it a good memory.”

  “I am talking about something else. Something happened to me, this morning, Sir.”

  Swanson sucked in another deep breath and let out a slow blow.

  “My plate’s pretty full; what do you want to add?”

  “We have a Carrier complication. This morning my transport Carrier spoke to me.”

  “Really?”

  Swanson sat up again; and, with his elbows on the desk, he looked pensively at Burns.

  “Go on.”

  “He said his name was Allenfar. He spoke to me, complimented me, actually…Apparently, when the Carrier took me back in time, those months ago, she claims to have had ‘a compatibility’ with me. They want me to take more time trips within her.”

  Swanson stood up, walked around the desk and sat on its corner.

  “Did he say anything else?”

  “That I was a potent sustenance to her-to them all; more potent than they have experienced in over 200 years; I am sure what happened to me, relates to everything else; the explosion, Sidron, the event at the ceremony. Gordon, there were two tremors at the Bering Straits too. We all thought it was earthquakes. But now, I’m not sure.”

  Swanson got a blank stare at first, then he began speaking, as though he remembered something from long ago, “‘A Compatibility’, eh; I haven’t heard that term in a very long time. Now, that I’m not GGM, things become foggier, with every minute. I almost forgot it was possible. Jake, this could be good for us, if it’s true. Ever-Life could expand, at an accelerated rate, beyond anything we have ever known in modern times. The last ‘compatibility’ was during the GGM before me. Carriers were not as happy as you’d think, to accept my authority.” Swanson seemed to strain to remember. “You know, the Carriers live with us symbiotically, sort of, and synergistically of course. Normally; they derive very little from us, and only while we travel in them. Even if we could, we are bound by treaty not to calculate readings or amounts. But, we know; whatever it is they receive from us; it’s more than from any other life form. They need us. Historically, only once in a great, great while, almost never, someone very special comes along; and voila, ‘a compatibly’; a massive link, directly into their most stimulating, private being. It’s rather confusing to us, because we don’t sense what we give them. We derive measurable, physical benefits from them. Their abilities to travel in this environment, to heal, to control time, to create anything from nothing within their bodies is what we get. But, we really have no idea what it is they get from us.”

  Swanson sat back down, rocked in his chair, and looked at the ceiling. He seemed to ramble on, “We know they derive essential components from our psyche, our emotions, our inner being; things that when enough is accumulated, they propagate-reproduce, so to speak; you know, the bright goo covering the cave walls. But, it’s only in those rare, one in a billion instances, from ‘a compatibility’, that they can pump offspring out like garden hoses squirt water on the fourth of July. And they can do it for months. Up until now, they have had to accumulate whatever it is slowly, in small amounts from humans, little by little. If one of us is ‘compatible’ with even just one of them, all of them share the experience. One compatibility session could generate hundreds of Carriers to breed, at the same time. For Ever-Life, ‘a compatibility’ could motivate them all to create new inhabitable caverns at a rate, well, faster than any effort in centuries.”

  Swanson seemed obsessed, in the moment. Suddenly, he shook it off and looked at Burns. “I am way ahead of myself. There is a lot to think about here; first things first.”

  “I like first things first.” Jake said.

  “Let’s get back to the author of this book. If he had a headset session, we have a record.”

  “Yes, probably.”

  “I want you to check in our vaults, here first. We need that file. If nothing else, it will tell us the specifics of your actions in that timeline. We need to monitor and protect you, there, against a Brock invasion…What a bag of mucky puck.”

  Swanson took their two Knofers and put them end to end, on his desk. Then, they both put headset ear-plugs on, and Swanson called an emergency meeting of all eight Post’s security staff leaders.

  Chapter 9

  Fargo Gone

  GGM Mathew Bellos joined his father, Dr. Richard Bellos, and Dr. Jack Sheldon managing trauma units, set up between the two bombed buildings, on the Brock/Swanson Campus. One exploded in the new Time Research Building-TR-26. The other bomb leveled the Fargo building, where Marion Brock had his primary residence, for years. Bellos and Jack had been in the process of transferring Ever-Life’s appropriate data, from ‘Time-Trust’ files, below Arden, to TR-26. The objective was to influence one of the Campus research teams, to discover ‘time travel’; thereby controlling any and all surface negotiations, through patents, copyrights and trademarks. It was a new approach, by the new GGM. Ever-Life would reap much greater benefits. Of course, that was before the current events took place.

  Mathew broke away from the trauma units to call Swanson; and then, he returned.

  “Dad, what is the status?”

  “Most of the wounds were superficial, and treatable here.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Campus bulldozers should have most of it cleaned up in two days.”

  “What a mess.”

  “Arden police are over there. They have been interviewing our security team, hah; their own chaps. I haven’t tal
ked to them yet. Detective Watzin did not come. Son, where is my granddaughter, Angie?”

  “She is with Dr. Luanne, down under. She said she was going to meet Brian, in the morning, for the Marshall decision. She is safe for now. What’s the latest census?”

  “All accounted for but two; Barb Sawyer and Ralph Walker.”

  “Why would Barb or Ralph be anywhere, but floor two at Andrews?”

  Jack interrupted, “I gave the order. Matt they went on their break, to TR-26 to get a copy of my treatise. Guards are searching now; but, nothing yet.”

  “Jesus.” Bellos turned to Richard. “And that’s everyone?”

  “Yes, Son.”

  Bellos then gave the detectives, on site, his full attention. He raised his voice to the few, digging in the rubble, “Hay fellas; who is in charge here?”

  “I am here, Doctor.”

  Bellos turned around to see a young, spry, energetic woman, in her late twenties, wearing a dark purple pantsuit and a grimace.

  “And you are?”

  “I am Abigail Johnson, Abby, if you like. Sir, your Mr. Burns directed me to report here.”

  “Ah; well, Jake has good taste.”

  She looked at the three doctors without fear, focusing on GGM-Bellos. They all heard a ticking, and Bellos said quickly, “I think that is you, my dear.”

  Abby tapped the palm of her hand and then read the display across her fingers.

  “Hmm, just what we need, a palm reader,” Jack said. “I guess she is not from the police station.”

  Johnson began reading from her hand, and spoke to the GGM, in a determined voice, “Sir, the Fargo building is flat, completely demolished. It was a pro-job. There was minimal damage to surrounding areas; definitely strategic and professional.”

  Bellos replied, “I want them, Johnson. This is the second time, in a year, that we have been hit. I want it stopped, permanently.”

  “Well, that is why Burns sent me, Sir.”

  She reached inside her pocket, recovered a small bundle and handed it to Bellos.

  “We found that. It’s a remnant of an old type detonator. We also got two fingerprints, and fresh footprints, off stair planks, in the rubble. There were five of them. We captured one man, unconscious, outside Fargo. He was wounded from blast; concussion. His leg was broken in three places. The others fled up to Albuquerque. We ran a dust analysis, trailing the air-path of the blast. Long story short; we searched the Knofer gene pool from the prints on the door knobs, saliva spray on a glove, and stair railings. It all revealed identities. It took longer than we thought; but, we found one man at the city train depot, and three more at the airport. We know they were Brock’s men; Rash InVoy’s, specifically.”

  Bellos smiled at her, “Impressive.”

  “And there is something else. I got word; three Knofers are missing.”

  “I knew about one. Didn’t their defense protocols initiate?”

  “Nothing traceable kicked in, from the colonies defense protocols. The feedback so far is not specific; one tracks Arden to China and back; one Moscow to Seattle; and, one from Fargo to South America; Rio.”

  “Organized confusion; sounds like a Brock scenario; a befuddle move. But, how did they get them?” Bellos looked angry. “Something just isn’t right; Fargo to Rio? Stream me any exact locations, when you can. Send teams as soon as you know.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good job, Johnson.”

  Bellos turned and started walking away. He noticed Jack, digging with the others, in the rubble of the building 26.

  “What are you doing, Jack? You are going to cut your hands. You know better than that. Let the detectives work.”

  “I see something in here. Look at this.” Jack lifted the strange, transparent, fabric. “What is this? It’s sparkling, but looks like snakeskin?”

  Bellos took the 8x10 inch piece, examining and caressing it. “I need to make a call.”

  As he put it in his pocket, he felt it vibrate; and, instinctively, he pulled it out again, and held it up, next to his Knofer.

  “Unbelievable…”

  It quickly disintegrated, out of his hand.

  I think Mr. Brock and his team, are alive and well…And I think, something else…Damn; no reading on the Knofer.

  Jack watched and was noticeably disturbed.

  “I’ve only seen glowing like that, once before. It’s a piece of one of those things-your beasts, isn’t it? It has something to do with that bullshit at the ceremony, and what I am working on, your Sidron; doesn’t it?”

  Suddenly, they heard shouting.

  “Sir; Ms. Johnson; over here; over here; I’ve got something!”

  One of the detectives waived his arms to Abby, and they all walked quickly over to him.

  “Look, an arm,” the detective said.

  Bellos, Jack and Dr. Richard helped, as they all dug in the rubble.

  “My God,” said Jack. “It’s Barb; Barb Sawyer.”

  They brushed her face off; and Jack began C.P.R. Within a minute she coughed and opened her eyes.

  “What happened?”

  Jack smiled, as he held her head.

  “Barb, you’ll be fine; stay still. It’s me, Dr. Sheldon. Just, don’t move.”

  She coughed again, and said, “Dr. Sheldon, what about Ralph; Ralph Walker. We got your notes; but, just as we left the building, boom…”

  “My notes…”

  As the rest of the team reached the two of them, another detective yelled, “I’ve got another one over here; over here!”

  Jack was quick to instruct, “Get her into emergency; check her out, stat!”

  Then, he ran to the other site. Everyone was digging frantically. Jack watched, as Bellos and a detective pulled a lifeless body out from the rubble. The GGM brushed the dust and pieces of wreckage off his face. There was a deep gash through the neck, and his inner organs were missing.

  “Ralph Walker,” Jack said.

  “Look at his hand,” a detective said. “He is holding something.”

  Jack went over and pried his hand open.

  “My notes; my treatise; some is missing.”

  Johnson notified the rest of the team to stop looking, while Jack checked the body.

  “Matt, he has been dead a while; maybe, even before the bombings.”

  Bellos knelt down, as the ER team arrived with diagnostics. He took a blood smear and put it on his Knofer.

  “Run genetic analysis.”

  The two doctors stood up and faced Johnson.

  “Abby, he did not die from the bombing.”

  “What?” she said.

  “They obviously didn’t want Jack’s notes either; or they would have taken them. Ralph died from knife wounds. They gutted him and slit his throat, while he gripped those pages.”

  Just then, one of the ER men whispered into Jack’s ear, “Doctor, I found this in his inside coat pocket.”

  Jack took the crumpled ball of paper and opened it. As Abby reacted to what Bellos said, Jack talked to himself, “It’s the last page of my treatise....”

  “What are you saying, Sir?”Abby replied perplexed.

  “…I think the bombs may be a cover, just to get our minds off the ball.”

  “That’s a little farfetched; don’t you think?” She looked around. “What diabolic bastard would kill like this?”

  Bellos replied, “Marion Brock.”

  “Meanwhile, Jack thumbed through the other treatise papers and saw scribbled writing on a back page:

  It’s incomplete, Jack!

  CR

  He got a very sick feeling in his stomach.

  “Jesus, Matt; can’t you take Ralph to wherever you do it and duplicate him, clone him, let’s give him C.P.T. for Christ’s sake.”

  “I just checked. He doesn’t have the genetic makeup. It wouldn’t take.”

  Jack shook his head, “God what was the point?”

  One of the ER team spoke to Bellos, “Sir, should we take him to the morgu
e?”

  “Yes,” Bellos said, “to the morgue.”

  For a moment, as Bellos mourned the lad, he stood, quietly, watching Jack reading his notes, a few yards away. Jack turned to the GGM in a panic.

  “Matt! Look here!”

  “What is it?”

  “Look at this. Christ! And what about Rachel?”

  “What about her?”

  She went to D.C. for me; to meet that money backer, Charlie Rosse, look; CR…Rosse? Charlie Rosse?”

  Bellos spoke into his Knofer, “Charlie Rosse…Give me all data”

  “You can do that, with those?”

  Bellos shook his head in disgust.

  “Jack, I gave you Knofers, for a reason…It says he is a Mogul. That’s all we need; another farking Brock. He and his 14 ghost foundations support a variety of businesses. Most recently, the partnering contract negotiations for repairing the Bering Straits…Jake just attended the convention there. He said Brock money was all over the place.”

  “You think Brock and Rosse are connected?”

  “Yes, Brock is muddying the water to hide his involvement with Rosse. They all want the contract for fixing the Bering Straits? That would be very bad for us…

  …Johnson, Johnson; get me all the information you can on the last six months of transactions made by any Rosse or Brock company. Meet me at my office with it.”

  “When?”

  “Now!...Jack, Dad, walk with me.”

  “Matt, you don’t really think this is all Brock’s doing too, do you. He is dead. I remember.”

  “If my memory serves me; he set off on a year-long tirade, because of C.P.T., in the first place. Jack, you chose him, right?”

  “Come on, Matt, you never understood Marion Brock, or what he did for me and C.P.T.”

  “Your thinking was clouded then; and, obviously, it still is, by your obsession to prove your theories. The facts tell us; he is alive and up to no good.”

  “You think he is still after C.P.T.?”

  “There is more to it now. He wouldn’t have ruined his own home, here, or attacked TR-26, without having a much more elaborate agenda. He is daring us, to try and stop him. And, he doesn’t give a damn who he murders”