The Rising(21)

“But the fire—”

“Caused by immeasurable heat originating at the Earth’s core, pushed upward by the pressure to vent.” His eyes seemed to catch fire. “Where’s this iPad?”

“I told you, it was stolen.”

“By who?”

“Some guy at the football game last night.”

“A student?”

“No, a guy. A man. I didn’t recognize him.”

But he smelled like tire rubber and motor oil, Sam had to stop herself from adding.

“Can you erase the iPad’s contents remotely?”

“I’m not—”

“There must be a way. Call Apple. Find out. Now. Immediately.”

“I haven’t finished yet. The thing is, these four incidents are—”

“Connected, Dixon?”

“I was going to say they occurred from a time standpoint in chronological order from west to east following in perfect synchronicity corresponding to—”

“The curvature of the Earth,” Donati completed in a hushed voice, his gaze so distant now it made Sam think he was staring through the wall and not just at it.

“How did you know that, Doctor?”

He fixed his gaze upon her, as if realizing Sam was before him for the first time. “Know what?”

“What you just said?”

“About what?”

“Following the curvature of the Earth.”

His eyes narrowed, taking on an intensity Sam had never seen in them before, along with something … else. “You didn’t hear me say that.”

“I didn’t?”

“None of it, Dixon, not a single word. In fact, you never uncovered these findings and we never had this conversation. In fact, you weren’t even here today.”

“I wasn’t?”

“I don’t even recognize you, know your name. Where’d you get that ID? Security, security!” Then Donati’s voice lowered. “You have your data backed up?”

“Well, I,” Sam started, embarrassed, “I thought I had backed it to the Cloud but I must’ve messed up.”

“Messed up?”

“When I tried to retrieve my research at home last night, it was gone. All of it.”

“Never mind,” Donati interjected. “I don’t want to hear it anyway, don’t want to know. We never had this conversation. In fact, you never came into work. Called in sick with a cold, right?”

Samantha feigned a sneeze.

“Thought so, Dixon. It’s going around. Home with you now, home with you right now. Like you were never here, because you weren’t. Be gone with you. Go!” Donati closed his eyes. “When I open them, you’ll be gone. Poof! Like magic.”

Sam backed up, angling for the exit.

“Dixon?” Donati said, eyes still squeezed shut. “I can’t see you, Dixon!”

She didn’t answer, almost to the door now.

“Dixon?”

She was through the door when she heard Donati’s voice again, realizing in that moment what else she’d seen in his eyes: Fear.





19

EMERGENCY RESPONSE

DR. DONATI ENTERED HIS office and locked the door behind him. Then he braced a chair against the latch to further impede anyone from opening it. He visualized masked, dark-clad storm troopers bursting in with weapons fixed on him before he could complete the call he needed to make.

Among NASA’s various duties and responsibilities, both defined and undefined, was watchdog. Combing the reams of collected data to evaluate potential threats, hostile and otherwise, looming beyond this world. It was a nebulous duty with no clear chain of command or reporting procedure, with the exception of a single telephone exchange activated by pressing a three-number sequence followed by the star key.

Donati had been involved in the formation of such a procedure, at least peripherally, eighteen years before, but had never had reason to use it. It had been christened “Janus,” after the Greek god who presided over both war and peace, beginnings and ends, since any otherworldly discovery that could help the world could also destroy it, and visaversa.

But no such duality existed in the pattern of events Samantha Dixon had uncovered today, any more than it had in the similar pattern he’d uncovered eighteen years before.

How could I have missed it?

Perhaps because he wanted to, Donati thought, as he pressed out three numbers and touched the star key.

The line on the other end didn’t ring. There was a click, followed by dead air.

“Donati, Thomas W.,” he said, knowing the words were being processed for audio recognition to confirm his identity and thus the potential veracity of the warning he was about to issue. “NASA, Ames Research Center. Designation Peter-Victor-Charlie-seven-four-one-X-ray.”

Donati stopped, nothing but more dead air greeting him through the silence.

“I’m calling a Janus alert. Probability high.” Then, after taking a deep breath, “Threat level extreme,” he added.

Because it was happening again.

They were coming back.





FOUR

ASHES TO ASHES

No one can confidently say

that he will still be living tomorrow.