The 4400- the Vesuvius Prophecy

by Greg Cox

  A suspension bridge, Diana realized. Probably on one of the hiking trails up on the mountain. She tried to see if Maia could narrow the location down any further. “Does the bridge have a name? Did you see a sign anywhere?”

  “No, Mommy. I’m sorry. Please, promise me you’ll be careful. I don’t like what that mountain shows me.”

  “Don’t worry,” she assured her daughter. She and Maia had already had several serious talks concerning her job; Maia knew her mother’s work sometimes placed her in danger, but that Mommy always came home in the end. “Tom and I will both be very careful, just like we always are.”

  “But Tom’s not going with you,” Maia declared. “Alana is.”

  “What?” Tom blurted in surprise. As far as Diana knew, Alana was waiting for him back at the house they shared on Parkside Avenue. “Alana?”

  Diana was equally startled. Alana Mareva was a teacher and gallery owner, not a field agent. She didn’t even work for NTAC. “What do you mean, honey? Why Alana?”

  “She has to go with you,” Maia repeated with that same eerie certainty. “And that other woman. The one with the eyes.”

  Simone?

  “We need to get ready to evacuate if we have to,” Richard said to Shawn, while the visiting NTAC agents conferred among themselves. Shawn and Richard stood in front of a plate-glass window, staring out at the pristine white mantle of Rainier. “We don’t have to tell them exactly what Maia predicted, but we need to be ready to clear out of here on a moment’s notice, just in case NTAC can’t stop Cooper from triggering an eruption.”

  “Good idea,” Shawn agreed, but he couldn’t help wondering how long they could keep Isabelle in the dark. She wasn’t going to be happy when she found out how much they had concealed from her concerning the threat posed by Cooper DeMeers. “Let’s get everybody up and packed. We’ve had earthquake drills before, so they should know what to do. Can you arrange to have some buses on hand?”

  “I can do that,” Richard said. “I’ll also have our people quietly contact the returnees who live offsite.”

  They were talking thousands of people here; was it even possible to alert that many people without starting a panic? And what about the millions of ordinary people who weren’t connected to the 4400? Shawn found it hard even to imagine the scope of the disaster that might be awaiting them. This could make the Great Fire of 1889 look like a summer barbecue.

  I hope Uncle Tommy and Diana know what they’re doing, Shawn thought. He glanced over at Tom and Diana, who appeared to be getting ready to make their departure. “Give me just a minute,” he apologized to Richard before walking over to where the two agents were huddled. There was something he needed to say while he still had the chance. “Excuse me, Diana?”

  She looked at him. “Yes?”

  “Before you go, I just wanted to apologize to you . . . for hurting Maia last week . . . when I was ill.” His memories of those horrible days were garbled and chaotic, but eyewitnesses had confirmed that he had nearly killed Diana’s daughter in a deluded attempt to “heal” her. “You have to know that I would have never done anything to harm her if I’d been in my right mind.”

  Diana examined him thoughtfully, weighing his apology, before finally speaking. “I understand, Shawn. It wasn’t your fault. Daniel Armand had messed with your mind.” She reached out and took his hand. “I admit I was upset at the time, but I can’t forget that you also saved Maia’s life, when she was dying of inhibitor poisoning.” She cracked a thin smile. “I think we’re even.”

  “Thanks,” Shawn said, grateful for her forgiveness. No matter what happened next, with Isabelle or the mountain, he was glad to get that off his chest. He turned back toward Richard, who was waiting to work out the evacuation plans. “Take care, Diana. And you, too, Uncle Tommy.”

  He wondered if he would ever see them again.

  EIGHTEEN

  TOM MADE GOOD time getting to Philip Gorinsky’s house in Puyallup. This early in the morning the traffic had been light on I-5. A glance at his watch informed him that it was a little past five in the morning. In theory, Diana and Alana were en route to Rainier by now, along with Simone Tanaka.

  Don’t take any unnecessary chances, he urged them silently. He gazed south at the looming mountain. It didn’t look like it was about to pull a St. Helens, but Tom knew that looks could be deceptive where the 4400 were concerned. If Rainier blew, there was little chance that the women would get away in time. I don’t want to lose you both.

  He hated staying behind like this, while his partner and his girlfriend—undoubtedly the two most important women in his life—flew into jeopardy atop a slumbering volcano. But what else was he supposed to do? Maia had been quite emphatic on the subject and they ignored her prophecies only at their own peril. Presumably, this was the way things were supposed to happen.

  But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

  Parking the Chevy at the curb, he approached Phil’s humble domicile. Even in the early morning gloom, he could see that the old man’s lawn and gardens showed signs of neglect. The grass needed mowing, while weeds had sprouted up in the formerly tidy flower beds. Tom found this an ominous sign; he had only met the man twice, but he already knew that it wasn’t like Phil to let things go to seed like this. Diana’s theory was looking even more on-target. Being haunted by the spirit of his dead brother had clearly taken a toll on Phil’s housekeeping.

  Given the hour, it came as no surprise that the house’s windows were all dark. Tom felt bad about disturbing the old man so early in the morning, especially if their suspicions proved incorrect, but there was too much at stake to wait for the sun to come up. If William Gorinsky was using his surviving twin as some sort of human battery, they needed to know about it—especially with Diana and Alana heading for another confrontation with the murderous apparition. He almost killed Diana last time.

  Ringing the doorbell produced no results, so he tried pounding loudly on the front door. “Mister Gorinsky? Phil?” He shouted loud enough for the old man to hear him, but received only silence in response. “It’s Agent Baldwin from NTAC. I really need to speak to you.”

  Nothing.

  He glanced fretfully at the neighboring houses, relieved not to see any lights coming on inside the homes. The last thing he needed right now was a well-meaning neighbor calling the cops. His NTAC credentials would keep him out of trouble, but he didn’t look forward to having to explain why he was harassing an eighty-year-old veteran at five in the morning. “You see, officer, we have reason to believe that he is supplying cerebral energy to his dead twin’s ectoplasmic double. . . .”

  Looking around, he decided that the neglected lawn, as well as the continuing silence from inside the house, constituted probable cause that the old man was in need of immediate assistance. Taking a few steps back to get a running start, he smashed the door open with his shoulder. To his relief, no sirens blared. Apparently Phil had neglected to activate his house’s security system before turning in.

  More evidence that all was not as it should be.

  “Phil? Don’t be alarmed. It’s me, Tom Baldwin.”

  He quickly located a light switch and turned on the lights. A rapid scan informed him that Phil had been too weak or impaired to look after the interior of the house as well. Dust coated the coffee table and fireplace mantel. The carpet needed vacuuming. A TV dinner, mostly untouched, was going bad on an end table. A wool comforter lay in a heap in front of the empty rocking chair. Tom guessed that nobody had looked in on Phil for a few days.

  Ragged, stertorous breathing quickly led Tom to Phil himself, whom he found sprawled on the kitchen floor. Cold water gushed from a faucet over the sink. A shattered mug lay on the floor near his head. It looked as if Phil had been fixing himself a cup of tea when he’d suddenly been stricken. No wonder the security system wasn’t on yet. Tom wondered if the octogenarian’s collapse had coincided with Gorinsky’s sudden appearance at NTAC or The 4400 Center.

  Or maybe h
e had just had a stroke?

  “Phil!” He knelt down beside the older man and hurriedly checked his pulse. He felt a weak but steady beat beneath his fingers. Okay, he thought. At least he’s still alive. He gently rolled Phil onto his back and tried to rouse him. “Phil? Can you hear me?”

  The unconscious senior citizen failed to respond. Tom was reminded of Gorinsky’s inert state that night at Abendson, when his hostile doppelganger had attacked Diana and Garrity in the Underground. Phil’s eyelids fluttered. His lips murmured inaudibly. His right hand was clenched shut, perhaps around the grip of a phantom semiautomatic?

  What was Gorinsky doing right this very minute?

  Reaching for his cell phone, Tom started to dial 911, then hesitated. Did he really want to involve some clueless paramedics in this? What if he needed to fatally break the connection between Phil and his twin’s rampaging double? Tom didn’t want to harm the old man, especially after what had happened with his brother, but suppose Diana and Alana came under attack by the seemingly unstoppable Gorinsky? Tom wrestled briefly with his conscience. What if he was wrong and Phil was just in a diabetic coma or something? Would he ever forgive himself if he didn’t get the innocent retiree immediate medical attention?

  Damnit, he thought. There was really no choice at all.

  He dialed 911. “Hello, I’d like to request an ambulance.”

  He hoped he wasn’t fatally compromising Diana’s pursuit of Gorinsky.

  After giving the dispatcher Phil’s name and address, he pocketed his cell phone and pondered what to do next. Phil’s lips started moving again so Tom leaned forward in hopes of making out what he was saying. The old man’s voice was so faint that, even with his ear only inches away from Phil’s face, Tom could barely hear him.

  “Keep moving. . . .”

  “Keep moving,” Gorinsky ordered Cooper. “Faster.”

  The killer’s gun had been aimed at Cooper’s head for hours now, but Cooper had hardly grown used to the situation. If anything, he was getting more freaked out by the minute as the tranquilizers in his system gradually wore off. After fleeing The 4400 Center, and hot-wiring a random car from the Center’s parking lot, Gorinsky had forced Cooper to drive south toward Mount Rainier. In order to avoid the ranger stations at the entrances to the park, they had left the car alongside a lonely mountain road a few miles short of the Nisqually gateway and set off on foot through the woods. Now Cooper found himself on a forced march toward the last place on Earth he wanted to set foot on: the snow-covered volcano up ahead.

  Dawn painted the enormous glaciers a rosy shade of peach. Cooper stumbled through the uneven terrain of a dense old-growth forest. It was an overcast, foggy morning. Towering firs and hemlocks obscured his view. Faint sunlight filtered down through the heavy green canopy overhead. Moss and lichen clung to the trunks of the trees. A stream gurgled somewhere nearby, reminding Cooper just how thirsty he was. Birdsong greeted the sun. Woodpeckers tapped loudly against solid bark. Logs, fallen needles, and fungi littered the forest floor as they hiked uphill through the foliage. Cooper was already breathing hard. His legs were killing him. His flannel shirt wasn’t enough to keep out the morning chill. He needed a jacket or something.

  “Please,” he pleaded. “I need a break.”

  “Tough.” Gorinsky didn’t sound winded at all. Was he just in better shape, or did dead men not need to breathe? “Your NTAC pals will be coming after you any time now. I’m not letting them steal you away from me again.”

  “They’re not my friends!” Cooper protested. “I didn’t want anything to do with any of you people! I just wanted to be left alone!”

  “Keep your voice down!” Gorinsky barked. He peered about warily, although it seemed unlikely that they were being watched by anything other than wildlife. The barrel of his pistol jabbed Cooper between the shoulder blades. “And step on it. We haven’t got all day.”

  For the one hundredth time, Cooper wished that he hadn’t snatched the damn gun from that guard back at NTAC. Then again, Gorinsky could presumably just zap him instead. “For God’s sake, can’t you let me know what this is all about?” He kept his voice low to avoid provoking the trigger-happy gunman. “Maybe we’re on the same side.”

  Frankly, he doubted that was the case, but he was willing to say anything to find out what Gorinsky was really after—and where exactly he fit into the picture. Is he after the $200,000? If so, he’s in for a hell of a disappointment!

  “We ought to be,” his captor said grudgingly. “From what I hear, those bastards in the future screwed you over, too. Just like they did to all of us.” Venom dripped from his words; Cooper could practically hear the man’s blood pressure rising as he finally gave voice to the simmering fury that seemed to be driving him. “I had a great future in front of me. The best years of my life. College, a career, a great girl . . . and they stole it all away, because of some complicated plan to change history. Well, I’ll teach them to mess with my American Dream. I’ll spoil their goddamn plan if it’s the last thing I do!”

  Cooper was confused. “But . . . I thought you belonged to the Nova Group? Don’t you believe that the 4400 are destined to save the world?”

  “Not if I can help it,” Gorinsky snarled. “What do I care about what happens to some heartless SOBs thousands of years from now, after what they did to me? Screw them and their stupid master plan!” Spittle sprayed from his lips. “I was only with Nova because of Simone, and because I wanted to be where the action was, right in the middle of things, so that I could sabotage the future’s plans at a crucial moment. I was just waiting for the right opportunity—and then you came along.”

  “What do you mean?” Cooper asked. He was afraid he knew, but needed to hear it anyway. “What do you want from me?”

  Gorinsky laughed joylessly. “What do you think, numbskull?” He pointed at the northern flank of Rainier, which was barely visible through the teeming pines. “You’re going to blow up that mountain for me, just like the little girl predicted. If we’re lucky, we’ll wipe out most of Seattle and the 4400, too.” He chortled loudly. “That should sure throw a monkey wrench into the future’s plans!”

  “You want to kill all those people, cause a major disaster, just to get back at the people who abducted us?” Cooper couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re insane!”

  “Says the man who jumped out of a jetliner with a bomb in his suitcase,” Gorinsky mocked him. “You’re no one to talk. The way I figure it, we’re both on borrowed time, so we might as well go out with a bang.” He prodded Cooper with the pistol once more. “Now shut up and keep walking.”

  Cooper realized there was no point in trying to reason with Gorinsky; the man was obviously out of his mind—and willing to sacrifice both of them to get his revenge on the future. Cooper’s only hope was to get away from the killer somehow. In the meantime, he struggled to stay calm, for fear of setting off another earthquake before he had a chance to escape. He wasn’t sure how long the inhibitor in his bloodstream was supposed to last, but it was bound to wear off eventually. I need to get out of here before that happens, he thought. If I can.

  Knowing that he was on a suicide mission didn’t make the arduous hike any easier. In time, they stumbled onto a trail of sorts. Poorly maintained, it appeared to be the proverbial road less traveled; still, it beat trekking through the underbrush. The path led steeply upward, so that they were fighting gravity the whole way. Without a watch, Cooper couldn’t keep track of the time, but he figured that they had been walking for at least a couple of hours by the time they finally passed the tree line and left the forest behind. Sloping subalpine meadows rose before them. Acres of spring flowers blossomed in the misty sunlight, despite the generous patches of snow still frosting the hillside. Melting snow gurgled down the mountain. Cooper looked about anxiously for other hikers, but it was still early and the unmarked trail appeared to be far from the beaten path. He spotted a ranger cabin on the other side of the meadow. For a second, hope s
parked inside him.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Gorinsky growled in his ear.

  Veering in direction, he forced Cooper to take the long way around the cabin. Within minutes they had lost sight of the rustic structure. Cooper’s spirits sagged. So much for being rescued by a forest ranger. He was still stuck with a killer, with no help in sight.

  They waded through an icy stream that stung Cooper’s aching feet. The cold water soaked right through his ill-fitting sneakers. The higher they climbed, the more aware Cooper was that he was hardly dressed for a long hike up a mountain. Hugging himself to fight the cold, he longed for a heavy jacket or sweater. A chilly wind bit into his face and bones. He took a moment to scoop a couple of handfuls of water into his mouth. The ice-cold water tasted delicious and went a long way toward restoring what was left of his strength. At least he didn’t feel like he was about to drop at any minute.

  “That’s enough,” Gorinsky declared. The stalker himself seemed impervious to the cold, hunger, thirst, or fatigue, or maybe he was just too crazed to care. He gave Cooper an impatient shove that sent the weary fugitive stumbling across the slippery stones beneath his feet. “You better not be stalling on purpose.”

  “I’m not, I swear!” Cooper waded back onto dry land. Water streamed from his sneakers. “I’m just exhausted. I’m out of shape.”

  “Then save your breath for the climb,” Gorinsky said, doing his best impression of a drill sergeant. The brawny leatherneck looked like one, too. “And stop dragging your feet. It will all be over soon.”

  That’s what I’m afraid of, Cooper thought.

  It only got colder as they continued to gain altitude. The flowering meadows gradually gave way to piled snow and rock. Boulders jutted from deep gullies carved out by forgotten avalanches. Banks of loose scree piled at the base of weathered granite cliffs. Switchbacks led them on a zigzag route up the colossal mountain. The snow was ankle-deep at times. The freezing wind left Cooper shivering. He hadn’t felt this cold since that hellish November night thirty-five years ago, right before that big ball of light changed his life forever. They had ascended above the cloud cover by now, leaving the morning fog behind, but he could see his own breath misting before him. The increasingly steep grade had him panting in exertion. They passed a waterfall, cascading down a rocky cliff. The spray from the falls sprinkled his face, but did little to ease his suffering. He panted over the roar of the falling water.