by Darrel Bird
Jack Cantrell sat in his JPL office working on figures when Chris Stone knocked and stuck his head in the door, “Jack, our bird’s have flown the coup.”
“What birds?”
“Packwood and Goldsmith, that’s what birds. You want me to contact the FBI?”
“I told you to keep an eye on them.”
“I did keep an eye on them, but this is not exactly a secure facility you know.”
“When did they go?”
“I think yesterday.”
“Let them go; we don’t need them, and I really can’t say as I blame them. If we had half a brain we would leave too.”
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking the same thing; how much time do you figure we have?
“About two weeks, I just talked to the president yesterday; they are going to take their cabinet to ground under Iron Mountain; they are already preparing.”
“Why don’t we split Jack? What are we doing here?”
“I’m going to monitor the effects of this on people Chris; I have been a scientist all my life; I don’t know anything else…” His voice trailed off.
“Us old fart's time has come haven’t it my friend?”
“Yeah Chris, I’m not going to live a possible 11 years in a hole in the ground; I'll work until I get too sick to work.”
“Do you think the others will stick?”
“Some will, but the majority won't, at least the ones who understand what’s going to happen.”
“I’m staying Jack.”
“I knew you would; you have been a good friend Chris. Let's get the facility closed down as best we can, from this day forwards the gates remain closed.”
“Ok, I’ll give the order.”
Chris stone got up slowly and walked to the door; he closed the door gently behind him as he left, there was no secretary on duty at the desk, he guessed she had gone on a coffee break.
Jack Cantrell sat at his desk and sadly looked at his figures, then he reached in the drawer, took out his pistol and blew his brains all over the white ceiling. The cruel sound ricocheted down the halls, but Chris Stone was already out of the building and didn’t hear it.
