Into the Looking Glass votsb-1 Page 4

  Many of his friends, and most of his colleagues, referred to him jokingly as a rat bastard.

  He’d recently considered going back to grad school to polish off another Ph.D. The only question was in what. Asshole physics, astrophysics to the uninitiated, was out. The whole field was filled with eggheads who couldn’t tell reality from fantasy and most of them put their fantasies squarely on the liberal side of the political divide. Maybe atomic level engineering, but the only school that had a department, yet, was MIT. Bleck. Among other oddities in his field, Weaver was a staunch and outspoken political conservative of a seriously military bent. A year, about what it would take despite the “recommended” three years, in the People’s Republic of Massachusetts was more than he could stand.

  Maybe genetics or molecular biology, branch out a little.

  But that had been yesterday, before “the event.” If there wasn’t a whole new branch of physics about to open up, he didn’t have a nose like a hound dog. And he was in, practically, on the ground floor.

  The math was probably going to kick his ass, though. At certain levels even the top-flight physicists sometimes had to resort to pure math guys. Ray Chen, for example, had been a go-to man for gauge boson and multidimensional field equations but even he bowed his head a few times and consulted with a pure mathematician in Britain. What was his name? Gonzales? Something like that.

  Bill was coming up with a mental list of people he might need to consult with when he realized the plane was already flaring out to land. It had hardly banked at all and done a power-on approach. They must have cleared every other plane out of the way for the fighter. The pilot flared out, hit reverse thrusters and turned off the runway so hard it seemed as if they were going to fall over.

  “In a hurry, Colonel?” Bill asked.

  “Very,” the pilot replied. “I got two in-flight requests for ETA. Somebody wants you pronto.”

  “Well, thanks for the ride, hope we can do it again some time.”

  There were soldiers waiting for the plane who obviously had no idea how to unhook all the umbilicals and straps that held him in the seat. The pilot unstrapped and got him unhooked, then he clambered out of the plane and onto the runway.

  “Mr. Weaver?” one of the soldiers said. “I’m Sergeant Garcia. If you’ll come this way?”

  “Can I get out of the flight suit?” Bill asked, unzipping same. He reached up and managed to get open the small compartment he had seen his bag disappear into. He stuffed the G suit into the compartment and retrieved the backpack, then headed to the waiting Humvee.

  “I understand you know what’s going on here,” the sergeant said as he climbed in as driver. The other soldier climbed in the back.

  “No,” Bill replied. “But I understand what might have happened, somewhat, and I’ve got some theories about what is happening and what might happen. And I know some of the questions to ask. Other than that, I’m in the dark.”

  The sergeant laughed and shook his head. “Can you explain it in small words?”

  “Not unless you know what a Higgs boson particle is,” Bill said, aware that he was going to have to explain it over and over again.

  “A theoretical particle in quantum mechanics that can contain a universe,” the sergeant replied. “But you can’t form them unless you’ve got a really big supercollider. Right?”

  “Right,” Bill said, looking at the sergeant in surprise. “Did somebody call ahead?”

  “No,” the sergeant replied, making a turn onto the Greenway. For once it was nearly empty of traffic. He took the Sunpass lane despite not having a transponder. “I was working on my masters in physics and then things went awry. Optics, actually.”

  “I’ve got a Ph.D. in optics,” Bill said. “And physics for that matter.”

  “Sorry, Doctor, I didn’t know that,” the sergeant said, wincing.

  “I don’t make everybody call me Doctor, Sergeant,” Bill said, grinning. “I’m just an overeducated redneck, not some soi-disante academic. So how’d you end up in the National Guard?”

  “Long story,” the sergeant replied. After a long moment he shrugged. “I was working on my masters, working with blue-light lasers. One of my classes I had to have a peer reviewed paper published. You know the routine.”

  “Sure.”

  “Didn’t have my experiments in lasers as far along as I wanted so I made the mistake of branching out. I got tired of everybody mouthing off about nuclear power so I did a comparative study of radioactive output from the Turkey Creek nuclear power plant vs. the big coal plant east of Orlando.”

  “Forgone conclusion,” Weaver grunted. “Coal’s nasty stuff.”

  “I knew that and you know that, but I’d done the research and there wasn’t a single peer reviewed comparative.”

  “None?” Weaver said, surprised.

  “Not one. So I did the tests, no detectable radiation outside of the plant itself for Turkey Creek and enough to cook a chicken in the tailings of the coal plant, which were, by the way, blowing into a nearby stream, and submitted it. To Physics. Got a response in a month. The paper was rejected for peer review and was not accepted for publication. My credentials were in optics, not nuclear physics.”

  “That’s… odd,” Bill said. “I smell a fish.”

  “So did I. Especially when I was summarily dropped from the master’s program shortly afterwards. Nobody would talk to me except one of my professors, who made me swear not to say who it was or make a stink. Not that it would do me any good. Know the senior senator from West Virginia?”

  “Oh, no,” Weaver said, shutting his eyes. “King Coal.”

  “You got it. He apparently made a deal all the way back in the 1960s. Florida got NASA stuff but to power it they had to build a coal-fired power plant. And keep it running. He protects coal like it was his own personal child, which in a way I suppose it is. Anyway, a lowly master’s candidate had attracted the personal ire of a senior senator. Said master’s candidate needed to go away now. Please, don’t bother submitting at other institutes of higher learning. You are the weakest link. Goodbye.”

  “I hate politics,” Weaver said, then shrugged. “But that’s why Huntsville has the Redstone Arsenal and Houston has the Space Center. Since I got my education because of the former, I suppose I shouldn’t complain too much. But, yeah, that’s a shitty story. On the other hand, it’s good for me.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, we’re going to have to measure this thing and I’ve got my very own soldier who can handle laser equipment. That’s going to help.”

  “Okay,” the sergeant said, chuckling. “Do I get a pay increase?”

  “Doubt it,” Bill admitted. “But we’ll see. Ever thought about going to other planets?”

  “You’ll get me through that thing kicking and screaming,” the sergeant admitted. “I saw those bugs. I don’t want to be on any planet that has them on it. Worse than arachnophobia. I just wanted to curl up and scream. I don’t know how Crichton and Grant could stand to touch them.”

  “Touch them? What about contamination?”

  “Wait until we get there, if you don’t mind, Doctor, sir,” the sergeant said. He had turned off onto the ramp to University boulevard. They had been waved through a checkpoint and the ramp had been roughly cleared of rubble. But it was still a rough ride.

  University Boulevard had been a four-lane highway connected to numerous side roads and residential communities. One lane had been partially cleared by an army of civilian bulldozers and military and a few emergency vehicles now picked their way down that single cleared lane. The suburbs on either side had been smashed, as if from a strong wind, and as they proceeded eastward it got worse until they entered an area that had been wiped clean of all vegetation except some burned stubby grasses and was devoid of anything but foundations. Bill shook his head as he mentally counted up the human life that had been erased in a bare moment. Families, children, dogs, cats, fish, birds in the trees, the trees themselves, gone.
It was shocking and horrifying and, after a while, so overwhelming that his mind just tuned it out.

  “I’m glad our company got detailed to secure the site,” Garcia said, noticing his glances at the devastation.

  “Why?”

  “The other companies around have been pulled in for search and rescue.”

  * * *

  Crichton had finally gotten a chance to take off his protective gear and grab some food. Battalion had gone to the Dominos Pizza on Kirkman Road, one of the largest in the nation, and gotten pizza for Charlie Company at materials cost from the owner. By the time Crichton got a slice all that was left was all the way and it was cold. But it was food and he realized as he bit into the slice that it was the first food he’d had since a chicken biscuit for breakfast. He’d found a bit of rubble, the foundation for one of the university buildings, and was contemplating the activity around the hole when a small voice said: “Excuse me.”

  He turned around and, right at the edge of the light from the kliegs, a small child, a girl by her clothing and hair, was standing watching him. In her arms was what looked like a stuffed animal, probably some sort of “monster” animal. At least it looked stuffed until it climbed up her clothes and perched on her shoulder.

  “Hello,” he said as calmly as he could. “Where did you come from?”

  “Home,” the girl said. “I’m hungry.”

  “What’s your name little girl?”

  “Mimi Jones, 12138 Mendel Road, Orlando, Florida, 32826.”

  “Are you lost?” he asked. He wondered where Mendel Road was and wondered who was going to hook this girl up with her parents, assuming they were alive. She seemed uninjured, so there was no way that she had been in the explosion. But there wasn’t anything standing for a kilometer around the explosion. If she had come from outside the explosion area, then she’d walked a long way.

  “Yes,” she said. “I couldn’t find my house or my mommy. And Mommy said I shouldn’t talk to strangers but she said that soldiers were okay one time when we were at the mall.”

  “Well, there’s a policeman here,” Crichton said, standing up. “He’ll probably be able to find your mommy. And we’ll get you something to eat. Come on.”

  He wanted to ask what that thing on her shoulder was but he thought it might be a good idea to wait until he got her into the light and got a better look at it. It might be one of those robotic toys that were turning up these days.

  In the light the thing was no better. It was almost entirely fur except for some stubby and goofy-looking legs; there seemed to be about ten spaced equilaterally around its body. And it didn’t seem to be threatening anything, just sitting on her shoulder.

  A command truck had been parked at the edge of the light zone and he led the girl over to the group that was standing around at the back. Weaver was there and the SEAL commander along with a sergeant from Orange County Sheriff’s that had been sent over as a liaison. There was also a woman he hadn’t seen before, a tall brunette, just on the far side of chunky, with long brown hair. She was dressed in jeans and a flannel work shirt.

  “Hi,” he said when he got to the group. “This little girl just wandered up to me. I think she’s from in the TD area. She says her name is Mimi.”

  “Hello, Mimi,” the woman said, squatting down in front of the girl. “I’m Dr. McBain. I’m not a doctor like you probably know, I’m what’s called a biologist. I study plants and animals. This is Dr. Weaver, he studies stars and stuff. What’s your name? Do you know your address?”

  “Mimi Jones, 12138 Mendel Road, Orlando, Florida, 32826,” the girl recited again.

  “And what’s that on your shoulder?” McBain asked, eyeing it warily.

  “That’s my friend,” Mimi said, patting the thing. “His name is Tuffy.”

  “Do you know where your mommy is?” the biologist said.

  “No, I was watching Power Puff girls and then I woke up in the dark. I was scared but Tuffy told me it would be okay and then I walked to the lights. I’m hungry.”

  “Tuffy told you?” Weaver said, squatting down by her also.

  “Kinda,” the girl said and giggled. “He doesn’t talk, he doesn’t have a mouth like us. But I know what he means. I was really scared but he made me be brave and told me to go to the lights and get some food. I’m hungry.”

  “We’re out of pizza,” Weaver said, waving at the SEAL officer. “Would you like some nice MREs?”

  “I dunno,” the girl admitted. “I don’t like peas, though.”

  “No peas,” Weaver said as the SEAL, shaking his head, went to get some MREs.

  “Dr. Weaver,” the cop said, coming over and squatting down with the others. “That’s got to be impossible.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Were you at home, Mimi?” the deputy asked, softly. “When you fell asleep that is?”

  “Yes,” Mimi said.

  “That’s impossible,” the cop repeated. “Mendel is about three blocks from here.”

  “Did you have a basement, Mimi?” Weaver asked. “Were you in the basement?”

  “No,” she answered. “We had an apartment. On the second floor. I used to throw water balloons at Manuel downstairs until Mommy found out what I was doing with them and made me stop.”

  “That’s really impossible,” the cop said. “Where were you, really, Mimi?”

  Weaver didn’t have children but he did know that they would make things up. However, there was no logic to Mimi lying and he felt she wasn’t.

  “I don’t think she’s lying, Sergeant,” he said, quietly. “And do me a favor, don’t bully her on it. I don’t want her, or that thing, agitated.”

  “She can’t have come from Mendel, Dr. Weaver,” the deputy protested. “It’s gone.”

  “Quod erat demonstratum,” the physicist answered. “That which is demonstrated. Where did she come from, then? Everything for a half a mile in every direction is gone. She’s six; there’s only so far she could have walked. Ergo, she came from somewhere she could not have and Mendel is only one of many equally implausible possibilities.”

  “So how did she survive?” the cop asked, angrily.

  “I don’t know,” Weaver said, honestly.

  “Some sort of toroidal effect?” McBain asked.

  “Nope,” the physicist answered. “If there was a minimal effect toroid, and it doesn’t look like there was, it still would have taken out an upstairs apartment. And she wouldn’t be unscratched. Look, none of this is making sense according to standard theory so I’d have to go out on a limb and say that another gate opened and she fell in it as the blast front came across. Problem being even if it opened under her she wouldn’t have had time to fall.”

  “Opened up on her?” the woman asked. “Then she fell out after the blast had passed?”

  “Maybe,” Weaver shrugged. “Or maybe Tuffy saved her.”

  “That’s what happened,” Mimi said, stoutly. “Tuffy told me he saved me.”

  “Well, then, that’s the answer,” Weaver said, smiling. “Problem solved.”

  “Not all of them,” the deputy said. “We’re supposed to isolate any ET stuff. And if that’s not an ET I don’t know what is. It could be carrying a plague for all we know. And she won’t be able to take it to a shelter.”

  “And it doesn’t explain how it saved her,” McBain pointed out.

  “The point is, we need to isolate that thing,” the deputy said. “And her, come to think of it. Mimi, I’m sorry but you’re going to have to give me Tuffy,” the cop continued, pulling out a pair of rubber gloves.

  “I won’t,” Mimi said, stubbornly. “Tuffy’s my friend and he saved me. You’re not going to take him away and put him to sleep.”

  “We won’t put him to sleep, child,” the woman said. “But he might be carrying germs. We have to make sure he’s safe.”

  “He’s not,” Mimi said. “He told me he’s safe.”

  “Well, you still have to give him to me, Mimi,” the dep
uty said, reaching for the creature.

  “No!” Mimi answered, backing up. “I won’t give him to you. Leave me alone! You’re a bad man!”

  “Mimi…” Weaver said, just as the thing reared up. He caught a glimpse of what might have been a mouth and then two of the thing’s legs extended enormously, forming or extending claws at the end. The claws caught the deputy in his upper arm, just below where it was protected by body armor. There was a sizzling sound and the deputy was flung back to shudder on the ground.

  Weaver rolled up and back into a combat stance as the woman stood up and backed away as well. The deputy was shaking from head to foot and then stopped. He was still breathing, though.

  “Medic!” Glasser called, dropping the MRE packet he had just carried over and grabbing the deputy. He dragged him to the rear of the command Humvee and then drew his sidearm.

  “Mimi,” Weaver said, as calmly as he could. “Tell Tuffy we’re not going to try to take him away, okay?”

  “Okay,” Mimi said, turning her head and murmuring at the thing. “He says the man will be okay.”

  “Okay,” the physicist replied.

  “It looks like he’s been tasered,” Glasser said, walking over with the MRE packet. “Mimi, this is chicken ala king. It’s got some peas in it, sorry, but it’s one of the best ones we have. I heated it up for you.” He pulled a folding knife out and slit the top of the MRE packet, then opened it up and carefully handed it to her along with a spork.