The commander, for years, had secretly rooted for the human race to heed her leaders’ calls—or show even the slightest signs of improvement. Yet when she was tapped to lead the mission that would vaporize the blue planet, she knew that their window of opportunity had closed.
Humans’ days were numbered.
And so were her own.
You leave us no choice.
Is she doing the right thing? Is their annihilation justified? She believes so. But how can she be completely sure?
The High Council might have decreed Earth’s destruction, but it will be up to her to order the launch of the nuclear warhead that actually does it, her finger on the button. Until the very last possible moment before she presses it, the commander will be hoping for a miracle.
And not just for the human race.
For her ship, which will be engulfed in the warhead’s cosmic inferno.
For her loyal crew, whom she misled about this mission from the start.
And for herself. For her loving husband. For her dear, precious children.
You leave us no choice.
Closing the message window, the commander takes another look at the photograph of her family wedged into her console: so much love, so much longing, so much joy, so much regret—all triggered by one simple image.
She swore an oath to carry out her orders to the best of her ability.
And she will.
It just kills her that this is how it has to be.
With tears brimming in her eyes, the commander keys her com-link. She speaks slowly and steadily, trying with all her might to keep her voice from wavering.
“Attention, all crew,” she says, “we are nearing our flight’s final stages. Our primary mission objective appears to be a go. Commence launch initiation sequence.”
A chorus of “aye-ayes” comes back at her through her headset.
Her crew—even the formerly livid mission specialist—is now courageously embracing their fate. She couldn’t be prouder of them, or more moved.
As the blue planet comes into view now through the Epsilon Eridani’s windshield, the commander steels herself for what’s ahead.
She has made her peace with the grim calculus that requires her to kill so many humans, for the good of billions of other species throughout the universe.
But she is still torn up inside at having to kill her innocent team and herself.
If only there was another way…
Chapter 28
What’s happening doesn’t seem real. It can’t be real. But it is.
I just watched, via encrypted video-link, the leader of the free world receive the news that our planet—after years of warnings—is about to come under some kind of attack from alien beings.
The president declared he’d be initiating Continuity of Operations protocols. He also ordered all American military forces and nuclear silos around the world to be put on red alert, and urged every other country—friend and foe alike—to do the same.
But then, he pinched the bridge of his nose in despair, and acknowledged what everybody else on the video conference was thinking. Or at least what I was thinking.
“Not that any of it,” he said, “is likely to make a damn bit of difference.”
The call ended only a few minutes ago, but news has already spread throughout the underground labs. It’s a madhouse, with scientists and agents scurrying everywhere.
“Agent McKinley!” I call, trying to grab his arm as he hurries past. “What happens now? What do we do?”
But he angrily brushes me off.
“What do we do? We build a time machine. Go back ten years. Tell the world about these goddamn alien warnings and convince people to take them seriously!”
His stern face finally shows the momentous fear he must be feeling. The fear that all of us are feeling. I understand what he’s saying perfectly.
We’re royally, epically screwed.
How could we humans have been so stupid?
I get that the government wanted to keep a lid on the whole receiving-coded-emails-from-little-green-men thing. Hell, just think how much I freaked out this morning when I intercepted one—and I’d been expecting it for years.
“At least let me call my family!” I plead. I explain to McKinley how, when I was ambushed at the front gate a few hours ago, security guards snatched away the burner cell phones John had given me. I need a phone.
“Word is going to leak about an impending attack,” I say. “Chaos is about to descend not just on Southern California, but all across the world. Roads are going to be jammed. Phone lines, internet access—it’s all going to be overwhelmed! If the world is really ending, Agent, I have to say good-bye to the people I love. Please?”
McKinley frowns. I can tell he’s feeling the same way about his family. He’s not thinking like a federal agent anymore, but like a husband and father. Same as me.
“My office,” he says, yanking a white plastic fob off his keychain. “Make a left at the end of the hallway. Third door on your right. There’s an unclassified priority landline on my desk. Use it—before it’s too late.”
McKinley thrusts the fob into my clammy hands. Before I can thank him for this act of kindness, he spins and disappears into the frenzied crowd.
I don’t have a second to waste.
I sprint down the hall, elbowing my way through the chaos. I turn left, and soon find a door with McKinley’s name on it—locked. I hold the key fob up to the plastic panel located where the doorknob should be, and it buzzes open.
Relieved, I burst inside. It’s blandly corporate and sparsely decorated. His desk is practically clear—except for two telephones: a high-tech encrypted one…and a “normal” one beside it. I jam the receiver against my ear, then frantically dial Marty’s cell number, which, thankfully, I still have memorized all these years later.
It rings. And rings. And rings.
As I wait, I start to imagine what might be happening up on the surface. As soon as word gets out, it will be chaos. Looting, rioting, hell. A total breakdown of law and order. All human progress and civilization—gone in seconds.
The line keeps ringing. My heart keeps racing. Finally, my ex-wife picks up.
“Marty!” I blurt. “Thank God, it’s me!”
“Oh, my—Rob, are you okay? Where are you?”
The sound of her voice, of her genuine care and concern for me, fills me with joy and relief—but also with searing pain. This woman I once loved so much, the incredible mother of our two wonderful girls…she has no idea this will probably be the last time we ever speak.
“I’m fine, Mar. I made it to the ranch, we translated the—look, it doesn’t matter. Where are Claire and Ellie?”
“They’re asleep. It’s midnight. Are you sure you’re all right, Rob? You sound—”
“Wake them up!” I exclaim. “I have to talk to them, too. I have to…we have to…”
I force myself to take a deep breath before I say these next unthinkable words.
“We all have to…say good-bye.”
Chapter 29
“Good-bye?” Marty asks. “What are you talking about? You’re scaring me, Rob. What’s going on?”
My breathing is sharp and ragged. I’m brimming with so much emotion, I can barely form complete sentences.
And even if I could, what the hell am I supposed to say? Where do I even begin?
“I’ll tell you what’s going on. I promise. But in case time runs out…there’s a lot more I want to tell you all first. Now wake the girls, Marty. Do it, please!”
I don’t mean to alarm her, but our situation—our planet’s situation—is dire.
“Okay, okay. Hang on.”
I hear rustling on the other end as she heads to the second-floor guest room with the red wooden bunk beds where Claire and Ellie are fast asleep. I spent so much time in her parents’ house when we were together, I can picture exactly what she’s doing—including stepping on that creaky third stair on her way up. For y
ears, it drove me nuts that my father-in-law had the time and brainpower to consult on top-secret government computer engineering projects, but could never spare a few minutes to fix a step.
Now I’d give anything to be back in that house, bounding up that old, rickety staircase, able to hug all three of my girls one final time.
Funny how the end of the world makes you realize what really matters.
How it makes you regret almost every decision you’ve ever made—and all those you didn’t.
How could I have been such a lousy husband?
How could I have taken Marty for granted?
What the hell was I thinking, searching for alien life instead of focusing on the incredible life we created? Why did it take a goddamn message from outer space to make me realize how much I miss and adore my precious family?
And how could the human family have screwed this up so much?
A tiny part of me thinks maybe we do deserve what’s coming.
“Girls, wake up,” I hear Marty saying. “It’s your father. He needs to talk to us.”
Claire and Ellie utter groggy hellos. Hearing Marty’s voice when I called got me choked up…but hearing my little girls makes my eyes wet almost instantly.
“Hey, you guys,” I say, trying to sound upbeat and disguise the overwhelming fear and dread I’m struggling with. “I just wanted to tell you…how much I love you. And how I always will. No matter what happens. Now and forever. I couldn’t be prouder of you guys, and I always will be. Do you understand?”
“Daddy, are you crying?” asks Claire. I can hear in her voice that her little lip is quivering. She was always so smart and empathetic. I know I can’t lie to her.
“I am,” I say, smearing a tear across my cheek. “But I’m crying because…I’m happy. Very, very happy. To talk to my little angels.”
Which is the truth. There’s no one in the world I’d rather be speaking to right now.
Especially since the world is ending.
“We love you, too, Daddy,” says Claire.
“Yeah, and we’re proud of you, too!” squeals Ellie. “We miss you!”
Tears are streaming down my face now. It’s all I can do to whisper: “Okay, you two. Back to bed.”
“Will you be home soon, Daddy?” asks Ellie, the one I can’t lie to. What do I say?
“I…I hope so, sweetie. But I promise I’ll see you soon. Somewhere, somehow.”
Marty takes back the phone. As she walks into the hall and closes the bedroom door, I can hear her sniffling. I haven’t told her anything about the other messages, the aliens, the impending attack.
But I know immediately my brilliant ex-wife has figured out everything.
“How much time do we have left, Rob?” she asks quietly.
I tell her the truth. I don’t know. But not much.
Then I tell her how much she means to me. How she and our girls are the very best thing that’s ever happened in my otherwise pathetic life.
Marty, sobbing hard now, tells me she loves me, too. That my life isn’t pathetic, because it’s rich and full of meaning. Because my family loves me and my work paid off and I’ve helped make a difference in so many people’s lives.
I’m moved beyond words. There’s so much more I want to say—
When I notice a growing commotion in the hallway outside.
Scientists and agents are rushing all around, shoving one another to get through, barking frantic orders, terror in their eyes. It’s sheer pandemonium.
Which can only mean one thing.
“Mar, I…I gotta go. I love you!”
I force myself to hang up, one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But there’s no time to think about that now.
I rush out into the hall and join the stream of people. It seems an even mix of some folks hurrying back toward the main lab, others running for their lives.
“Hey!” I scream, trying to get someone’s—anyone’s—attention. “What the hell is happening? Where’s everybody going?”
A young lab assistant finally takes pity on me. She slows down just for a moment, and breathlessly shouts back, “They’re here!”
Chapter 30
I’m standing in the underground lab’s bull pen again, with dozens of employees crammed in like sardines. But other than some muffled sobs, the room is eerily silent.
Because we’re all too goddamn stunned to make a sound.
Displayed on the giant wall of monitors is a grainy image—coming from a US military spy satellite—of an unidentified flying object hovering approximately 100,000 miles above Earth, roughly half the distance between us and the moon, and well out of range of even our most advanced fighters and nuclear warheads.
The object is triangular in shape, but has a bulbous nose cone, like a submarine.
It’s a dazzling metallic color, covered in shimmering mirrored panels.
It’s an alien spacecraft, orbiting our planet!
I’ve seen some pretty incredible things in my life. My wife on our wedding day. The birth of our children. The transmission of an encrypted extraterrestrial message right in my living room, just this morning. But sweet mother of God…
This is a whole other level beyond my wildest dreams.
I’m witnessing humanity’s first contact with an alien species—one that’s made very clear its desire to completely annihilate us!
My body feels paralyzed. My mouth is dry. The floor suddenly seems wobbly, like a trampoline. But my gaze stays fixed on that floating metal vessel.
“It’s doing something!” cries Dr. Chan. “Look!”
Sure enough, the underside of the ship seems to be…opening.
It’s hard to make out in the darkness of space, but a gigantic hatch appears to be slowly retracting to reveal a massive object, long and cylindrical, with thrusters and fins.
The technology may be alien, but it’s clear as day what we’re looking at.
A terrifyingly powerful weapon.
Panic sweeps through the lab. Screams of terror echo from every corner.
Those sons of bitches, they’re really going to do it!
Our species, our entire planet, is about to end in…Hours? Minutes? Seconds?
My head actually hurts as I try to process it. Billions of people, all around the world, are about to be turned to dust! Our species has some problems, sure, but we don’t deserve to end like this!
Especially not all those children, so innocent.
It’s the thought of them losing their lives that pains me the most. They had nothing to do with our civilization’s mistakes, or our leaders’ failures. Nothing at all.
Of course I think of my own kids first, Claire and Ellie. But then I think about all those digital pictures my home supercomputer received over the years, from parents all across the world. They always made me smile, wherever they came from. Such happy, beautiful families. Such inspirations. Such beacons of hope. Such…
Wait.
Hang on.
No. No way. It’s impossible…
“Dr. Axen!” I shout, noticing the scientist racing past me, his eyes red from crying. “I need to ask you something about—”
“Ah, forget it, Barnett, there’s no point. It’s all over!”
“No, no, just listen to me, please! When Dr. Conrad read that message on the video conference, there was that one line, something like: We implied our concerns to certain individuals. Do you remember? What did that mean?”
“Oh. That.” Axen rubs his eyes and sniffles. Then strangely, he smirks.
“In one of the messages we intercepted…they said they’d grown tired of dealing just with our planet’s ‘elite.’ So they’d decided to reach out to some ordinary people, too. Never said who, or how they were going to do it. And we never picked up any stray signals, or got reports of any civilians claiming to be communicating with aliens. I always thought they were bluffing, but—”
“When did that message come in?”
Dr. Axen shrugs. “A couple years
ago. Does it really matter?”
Yes, yes! I’m thinking. Maybe more than you could ever imagine!
“This may sound nuts,” I say, “but I think maybe I was one of those people!”
Dr. Axen just rolls his eyes and starts to head off again—so I grab his arm.
“I’m serious! My two little girls…for as long as they’ve been alive, I’ve beamed digitized pictures of them out into the cosmos. A sort of peaceful greeting. To anybody who might have been listening. A few years back, my supercomputer started getting encrypted pictures of children and families back.”
Dr. Axen’s expression slowly begins to morph from dubious to disturbed.
“I just assumed they were from other radio astronomers,” I continue, “but I never figured out who. No way it was just a coincidence!”
“Okay,” Dr. Axen says, “maybe you were one of the chosen. Maybe those creatures in that ship up there were sending you random kids’ pictures, were trying to communicate. So what? Now they’re pointing a goddamn warhead at us!”
“I know,” I say. “I know. But…I think I have an idea how to stop them.”
Chapter 31
The lab is quickly descending into chaos. Scientists and agents are abandoning their posts in droves. Not like I blame them. If you just found out the world was about to end, would you really hang around the office?
By a stroke of luck, I spot McKinley amid the madness. I fight my way over and corner him, with Dr. Axen by my side.
Frantically, breathlessly, I try to explain my insane idea.
In a nutshell, I want to bombard the alien vessel.
With pictures.
“For years they were trying to reach out to me,” I say, “but I never reached back. At least not in any meaningful way. If those aliens are so damn worried about the future of other species, let’s make them realize whose futures they’re snuffing out—our children’s. Put a face on all the kids they’re about to murder!”
The House Next Door Page 26
