CHAPTER 11
Justin
OSRI
Justin sat in his office reading the article for the fourth time. Tanya Jensen-Baxter’s account was the only existing description of what had happened to Las Vegas. Not even satellite imagery could break through the metallic clouds above the city. The military was helpless against the acid rain and the scientists hadn’t had enough time to figure out how to combat it. The destruction took less than seven hours. When the rain ate its way through the hard dirt, it hit the aquifer, causing a rapid vaporization and resulting in a monstrous sinkhole. The whole city dropped into the valley floor. Over eleven million people were dead, swallowed forever.
They’d found Tanya with her arms tightly clamped around the sleeping bag, her face buried in the cloth, everything below her waist eaten away. Brenda Jensen gave permission to print the letter in its entirety in an effort to help save the planet. Justin couldn’t help feeling the mother’s pain. To lose a child was the worst tragedy of all, but to lose one that way had to be devastating. His heart pounded, and he rubbed his chest through his white shirt, crinkling his paisley blue tie.
I have to stop reading this article, he thought. It’s killing me.
He put the paper down on his maple desk and noticed Mary’s ring wasn’t on his finger. He remembered leaving it at Rina’s terminal in the MCC after he’d washed his hands. He gazed at a marine tapestry on the wall; its vibrant colors lashed out like fireworks, a reminder of how much Mary had loved the sea.
She had decorated his office with every kind of nautical and sea ornament ever made on Earth. Every week she’d come in with something new to either hang on the wall or place on a desk or table. Every piece of wood was carved into some form of aquatic life, including his desk where a multitude of sculptured dolphins, whales, and assorted marine creatures sat beneath the clear glass atop. Even the legs and the ends of the padded armrests of the two maroon-colored chairs in front of his desk were chiseled into the heads and bodies of Beluga Whales.
A solemn emptiness crept up inside him. The three years she’d been dead had felt like a century. When she died, he decided to leave the office just the way it was, a memoriam to a beautiful person. He missed her so much.
He glanced at his left hand again. If Rina discovered the ring was missing from his finger, she’d be upset. She never removed her pendant, not even for showers and pools. The cell phone clipped to his belt showed no messages from Rina. She must have had some night. The chiming of the black phone startled him. The caller ID said it was his old friend Admiral Payton Williams.
“How’s it going, Payt?” asked Justin, clearing his throat.
“I’m fine,” he said. “I can’t believe you left me here with these irritants. Some friend you are. How did you convince the President to let you go?”
“I showed him the letter of the young girl who died in Las Vegas. Did you get the gift I sent to your room?”
“Yes, I did,” answered Payton happily, “and I called to say thank you. It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten. Pickles and ice cream.”
“I can’t believe your taste in food,” said Justin, chuckling. “Are you sure you’re not pregnant?”
“Yes, I’m quite sure,” said Payton. “My wife says the same thing and you’d better not tell anyone. Only you and she are privy to that secret.”
The office door opened abruptly and General Bauman marched in. Refusing to knock was typical of him. He stood at attention between the two chairs. Justin wondered if Bauman ever lightened up; he was always stiff as a board.
He probably sleeps standing up, he thought.
“I have to go,” said Justin. “Something just came up.” Bauman glared at him. “I’ll talk to you later, Payt.” He hung up the phone.
“The President released you?” asked Bauman.
“Yes,” answered Justin, holding back a laugh. “I was released from captivity after I pointed out if there was no world to save, why the Peace Conference?”
Bauman nodded and eased into a leather chair. His demeanor was calm, relaxed, yet beads of moisture glistened from between his thinning hair, and the few strands across the top of his head had frizzed. His facial wrinkles were deeper, more carved, and his steel-gray eyes were bloodshot. Something was wrong.
“I agree,” said Bauman. “We need to talk.”
There was another knock on the door and Justin’s secretary, Barbara, poked her head in. Her bleached white hair and heavy blue eye make-up belied her age—thirty-five—and her status of wife and mother of two, as well as her unshakable commitment to her job. Although better offers had come along, she refused to leave claiming OSRI was her home.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said, furtively glancing back into the hallway, “but I’m going to dinner. I’ll see you in an hour.”
“Enjoy yourself,” said Justin, noting Bauman hadn’t turned his head to acknowledge her.
“Darn right I will,” she said. “It’s the second time in three days the military is picking up the tab and I’m taking advantage of it. I’ll bring you back something.”
“Thank you,” said Justin.
Barbara left, shutting the door. Bauman walked to the window and peeked through the putty-colored verticals at the parking lot below. He was a firm, bulky man whose silhouette filled half the height of a single floor-to-ceiling window.
“So what can I help you with, General?” asked Justin, hearing the faint sounds of car doors slamming.
“The world wants answers, Doctor,” said Bauman, strolling back to his seat. He straightened his jacket and ran his hand over the wiry threads on his head before sitting down. “I have a way to save the human race, and I believe a man of your stature is needed.” He took a deep breath and relaxed back in the seat, leaning his elbows on the armrests and clasping his hands in front of him. He continued, “Due to the world’s apparent lack of leadership, we’ve formed an organization that will ensure the eternity of mankind. The New Continuum will provide a perfect government for all remaining survivors of our new found world.”
“Survivors?” asked Justin, scratching his head. “New Continuum? What are you talking about?”
Bauman suspired then continued, “The New Continuum has been founded by a handful of respectable men taken from high-levels of society, who have, in some way, contributed to the greatness of our race. These men, including myself, have formulated a plan to rid the world of the unwanted, those who give nothing to our way of life such as the hundreds of worthless beings set around the ring of fire—”
“Wait a minute,” said Justin, confused, trying to assimilate his words. “Are you talking about killing people? Is this a joke?”
“Not at all, Doctor, and kill is such a crude word,” said Bauman. “Let’s just say we’re going to clean house. In order for the perfect society to flourish, all refuse must be discarded. Blacks, Orientals, Asians, Latins, and the list goes on, every race, excluding the whites, have to be eliminated. This is an important step to perfection that must be carried out.”
Justin sat up horrified, his words stuck in his throat. He caught his breath and spoke. “This is lunacy! You sound like Hitler. Have you lost your mind? You can’t....”
“Hitler had the right idea,” interrupted Bauman, “but he did it wrong. There won’t be any need for us to build gas chambers or have concentration camps, you see, the Earth is going to do the majority of work for us. Three hundred and fifty nuclear warheads at fifty megatons each have been placed within the Challenger Deep. When they ignite, so will half the world’s ground faults, henceforth, taking care of most of our problems. It’s a perfect plan developed by resourceful minds and whoever doesn’t die in the initial blast will be used to serve the greater. We’re hoping you’ll join us in our crusade to save mankind from itself and birth a new civilization where only peace will rule.”
Justin jumped to his feet. “This is an outrage! How can you turn on your world?”
“I haven’t,” said Bauman, snorting a breath. “W
e’re trying to save it.”
“Killing innocent people is manslaughter in any book.”
“It’s a shame there’s no changing your mind,” said Bauman. “Your knowledge would have been useful.”
He squeezed his wristwatch and two guards entered the office carrying XL-20 rifles on their shoulders and S-8 pistols on their belts. They closed the door behind them.
“I’ll ask you this last time,” he said. “Will you join us?”
“Absolutely not,” said Justin. “My daughter was right when she said you’re a selfish, pathetic man who hides behind a uniform. You’re a coward.”
“She said that?” said Bauman, grinning. “Do you know where your daughter is, Doctor?”
Justin stood there motionless. Could he actually have Rina? It can’t be. Not my baby.
Suddenly, the two soldiers rushed him, grabbed his arms and held him in place. The one to Justin’s left was young with blonde, buzzed hair, the name “Rick” stitched above the pocket of his gray and white camouflage uniform. The other guard, “Joe,” was on his right and older in years, with brown hair and silver stubs at the temples. A jagged scar crossed his left cheek. Bauman was shutting the vertical blinds.
“What’s going on?” asked Justin, struggling to free himself. “Where’s Rina?”
“I gave you your chance,” said Bauman, returning to his seat. “The world is going to be ours with or without you. Your time has ended.”
“Where’s my daughter?”
Bauman made a slight nod at his soldiers. Rick yanked the chair away and Joe punched Justin in the face, sending him reeling into the wall where Rick rammed a fist into his stomach. For a moment, Justin had no idea of his surroundings. The shock of the incident had him doubled over in pain and disoriented. It took several breaths before he gathered his thoughts.
“Why?” asked Justin, slowly standing straight. He used the top of his hand to wipe the blood from his sliced bottom lip.
Bauman nodded his head again. Rick kicked the chair back and Joe shoved him into the seat. The nauseating puke was getting closer to his throat. Bauman was smirking.
“The President will hear about this,” said Justin.
Bauman didn’t flinch. He nodded and the two soldiers hurried to his side, standing at attention.
“Ever since your daughter broke into our system it hasn’t been the same,” said Bauman. “Her virus destroyed all the main hard drives, including those of the back-up computers. We lost a vital program used for viewing potential hazards to this government. We’d be fools to allow her to run loose in the system. She’s a danger to our way of life.”
“My daughter sent that virus because you came back to steal more of her programs.”
“Indeed, I did,” said Bauman. “We needed more and she would have refused us. Our actions were justified.”
“You’ve lost your mind,” scoffed Justin. “You want to murder the majority of the human race and you think you’re rational? Where’s my daughter?”
“In good time, Doctor,” said Bauman.
Justin knew he had to settle down. Perhaps reasoning with the monster would work. “Let’s see,” he said, doing a quick mental calculation. “Three hundred and fifty nukes at fifty-megatons each and you’ll be releasing the equivalent of over two hundred million tons of TNT into the deepest crack in the world. What makes you think anyone on this planet will survive?”
“We’ve estimated an eighth of the world’s current population would remain,” said Bauman. “This works to our advantage. With so few left, we won’t have any problem assuming command and we can start anew.”
There was a sense of dedication and determination in Bauman’s voice that turned Justin’s blood cold. He’d actually convinced himself it would work.
“You’ll be exterminating whole races of people, whole families, and our heritage.” Justin turned to Joe. “Do you have any children? A mother? Father?”
Bauman promptly interjected. “These fine soldiers are loyal to their General. Innocent lives are always lost when peace is attempted. This plan will guarantee humanity’s survival.”
Justin vaulted out of his chair and bashed his fist on the desk. “Who are you to play God? You and your colleagues are worse than Hitler!”
Bauman sprang from his seat. “Enough of this bullcrap!” He slammed his hands on the desk, the wiry strands of hair whisking across his pinched forehead as he scowled at Justin.
“You scientists created our unjust society and if any of your kind survives, I’ll have them slaughtered first!”
Bauman’s tanned skin changed to a purplish-red color. His rapid breaths shot spittle through his clenched teeth. Bloodshot eyes bulged from their sockets, anxious and ready to kill. His right eye began twitching feverishly, but he kept his glare on Justin as he panted with nostrils flaring. Almost instantly, his eye stopped its spasm, his skin lightened in color, and his shoulders relaxed. His familiar callous expression returned. Bauman straightened and gently tugged at the ends of his sleeves.
Two personalities?
“Have you seen your daughter lately?” asked Bauman. “I know exactly where she is, Young.”
Justin didn’t recall seeing Rina at all today, not even last night. It was common for her to stay all night working on the project and he wasn’t used to keeping tabs on her. An uncontrollable hate began simmering within.
“Where is she?” he asked in a hardened voice.
Bauman bellowed an insidious laugh. “At the bottom of the Mariana Trench with Shiro.”
Justin leapt across the desk and swung his fist straight into Bauman’s nose. The blunt force was so strong Bauman tumbled back onto the floor. A second later, Justin was peering inside the dark barrel of an S-8 pistol.
“Wait!” said Bauman, waving off Joe while Rick helped him off the floor.
Joe immediately backed away from the desk, keeping the gun aimed at Justin and signaling him to sit in his chair. Justin slid off the desk and sat, his stare riveted on Bauman.
“You’re a liar,” said Justin. “I don’t believe you.”
“No matter,” said Bauman calmly, using his handkerchief to pat the blood draining from his nose. “It’s over for you. Gentlemen, complete Phase II.”
Rick unshouldered his XL-20 and pointed it at Justin. Joe walked around the desk and stood at Justin’s left side, facing the entry door, his back to the window. He reached into a Velcro flap on his pants, screwed the silencer onto the gun, and held it to Justin’s head. Rick attached a black suppressor to his rifle.
This is happening too fast, thought Justin.
“What’s his promise?” Justin asked the two men. “Money? Safety? If it’s safety, forget it. If every nuclear bomb were set off simultaneously, they wouldn’t touch the amount of energy this planet will release. You won’t survive even in a jet flying thirty-five thousand feet up. Debris will saturate the atmosphere. The very dirt beneath us will boil. The magma under the crust will burst through the hundreds of fault zones and—”
Justin shut up when the cold metal of the gun barrel pressed into his temple.
“We’ve taken everything into account, Doctor,” said Bauman. “During the initial rupture of the planet, we’ll be flying in a jet at a safe distance from the failing fault zones. From there, we’ll assess the damage and remaining life. When the planet settles, we’ll land and continue our quest. The plan is simple—”
There was a knock on the door.
“Come in!” yelled Justin, not giving Bauman and his men a chance to stop him.
Rick quickly lowered his rifle, pointing it to the floor. Joe moved his gun down into Justin’s side near his armpit. Barbara and six people entered the office.
“I hope we’re not interrupting anything important,” she said. “We felt bad you couldn’t come, Dr. Young, so we brought our food back to eat with you.”
“You have perfect timing,” said Justin as the gun jammed into his upper ribs. “Come in,” he said tightly, ignoring the pain.
“The General was just leaving.”
“Excuse the doctor,” said Bauman, “but we’re having a private conversation.”
“Nonsense,” said Justin. “There’s nothing these people can’t hear.”
Joe rammed the gun into Justin’s side and twisted the barrel, wrenching his skin. He dared not flinch. Barbara was looking at him strangely.
“Is your lip bleeding?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Justin. He turned to Bauman. “It’s over, General.”
“So it seems,” said Bauman, who nodded at his men.
Rick stepped in front of Bauman and Joe moved to the side of the desk. Both aimed their weapons at the group near the doorway.
“What’s going on?” Barbara asked.
Justin lunged in front of Barbara just as the two soldiers began firing into the crowd.