CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
“Bon Appétit”
Thursday.
Otto told Yee everything that had happened since discovering the cave yesterday.
“What’s your feeling about these visitors?” she said. “Do they come in peace?”
Their voices made his flesh warp. Their image triggered panic and flight. “No. Like hell. If they came in peace, would they be burning up our people?”
“That’s my feeling too. See if you can find out how long they’ve been here and how many of their teams are ensconced in human skulls.”
“I’ll try but they seem to ignore any question they don’t like.”
“Will they respond to an existential threat?”
Will we?
“Ma’am, they seem to have no problem going down with the ship, so to speak.”
“Are they secure? Is there any chance they’ll escape?”
“I don’t see how. If they could have done so, they would have done it already. It’s my belief that their system was damaged when we dragged Witherspoon into the pond. This could be new technology to them as well.”
But there were six numbers.
“Keep on it. A SETI xenologist will arrive this afternoon. How do you surmise they enter the body?”
“I believe that this thing that looks like a spaceship is in fact a spaceship. They pilot them manually, so to speak. I believe they enter the body through soft tissue--the eyes, ears, nose and mouth. Same thing happened to Winner and when he erupted, the team targeted Stella. Only grazed her, thank God.”
“That would make her the first woman so targeted.”
“We don’t know that.”
“True.”
“But they failed. Maybe that’s why they don’t target women. Their skulls are too thick.”
Yee chuckled. “Did you get the intel on Yakovitch?”
“Yes. I wish we had video. Or a body.”
“Is Stella there?”
“Yes she is. Would you like me to put her on?”
“Please.”
Otto gestured Stella over and handed her the phone. “It’s Yee.”
“Hello Margaret,” Stella said softly. She listened. “I arrived right after that happened. Yes I understand.”
Beat.
“That’s nonsense, Margaret. It’s exactly as he said.”
She handed the phone back.
“Hello?” Otto said.
“Why did you shoot Agent Hornbuckle?”
“I have no excuse. He shot my dog.”
“Well either you have an excuse or you don’t.”
“It was a complete breakdown on my part. I’ll have to live with it for the rest of my life.”
“I may not be able to get you out of this, Otto.”
“I understand, Madame Director.”
“It’s good you have a criminal attorney out there.”
“Yes’m.”
“Can you route that feed to me?”
“I don’t think so. This is an air-gapped system but we’re recording everything.”
“Okay. Very good work by the way. Keep me appraised.”
“Yes’m.”
Otto hung up and turned to Stella. “What did she ask you?”
“She asked me if you were out of your freakin’ mind.”
The lights flickered.
“There’s something going on,” Alvarez said with an edge in his voice. The terminal showed a spike graph, the neon green on black line gyrating wildly.
Otto focused on the head in the jar. A trickle of bubbles fell upward from one nostril, orange eyes bulging from internal pressure until they looked as if they would burst. The head slowly turned from side to side as if taking in the scene, the pinpoint black pupils drifting apart.
The head shook violently causing the Plexiglas cylinder to bump and jive on the wooden pallets with a weird clattering sound. The whole lab vibrated, beakers and soda cans dancing off counter tops and crashing to the floor, giant springs groaning like hell’s hinges. Otto ran to the door and tried to open it but it was fused shut from pressure. He could hear the guards outside shouting.
The room jounced and rocked on its enormous springs creating a nerve-grating shriek that penetrated to the marrow. Stella reached out and took Otto’s hand. He pulled her close.
The lights went out.
It was black as a cave.
No. Not entirely black. There was one source of light: Witherspoon’s orange glowing eyes.
“SHIT!” Alvarez said. A match flared.
A deep thrum added to the din and the lights went back on. An emergency generator had kicked in.
Stella pointed at Witherspoon’s head.
The caretaker’s left eye erupted from within releasing a plume of coagulated blood. The tiny dart zipped through the solution to the outer wall. Otto stepped away from Stella’s grip, bent at the knees and heaved the massive Plexiglas screen just enough to squeeze through. He raced to the cylinder as the tiny dart began to drill through with a high-pitched whine adding to a sonic storm that incited madness.
With astonishing speed, the miniscule vehicle powered through the space-age plastic. Otto watched from five centimeters, fascinated. It looked just like an ant.
Like those ants he’d eaten in the desert.
“With a donkey’s jawbone I have made donkeys of them. With a donkey’s jawbone I have killed a thousand men”
The vehicle had almost reached the outer surface. It’s black needle nose broke through. In an instant, it would be gone, or would burrow successfully into Otto or Alvarez.
Otto laid his cheek against the cool smooth plastic and opened his mouth. As the vehicle emerged he bit down, crushing it between his molars.
That’s how you do it, he thought. You eat your fucking enemies.
There was a white flash and the world blew up.
***
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
“Graft”
Sunday afternoon.
His first realization that he was still alive was the feeling of having a concrete block lodged in his cheek. Otto’s jaw felt stiff, immobile. He opened his left eye. The light dazzled him, bringing tears. His right eye was covered with a bandage. The room was blindingly white. The ceiling was white, and the bed clothes and walls. Sunlight streamed through the Venetian blinds. Stella slept in a chair, long hair concealing most of her face.
An IV drip had been inserted in Otto’s wrist. Tentatively he used his left hand to feel his chin. The lower right half of his face was constricted by some kind of device using metal screws inserted in the jawbone. He tried to sit up. A wave of dizziness overcame him and he lay on his back staring at the white ceiling, noticing the myriad tiny acoustical holes, the inset fluorescent lighting. He stared at the ceiling so long it began to flow.
He was in a hospital. The room smelled of disinfectant and clean linen. His mind was a blank. How did he get here? What happened to his face? Then he remembered--Cheyenne Mountain, the spiders. Everything came back in a rush.
“Stella,” he tried to say. It came out flat and weak.
Stella opened her eyes and brushed the hair out of her face revealing a flesh-colored bandage on her forehead.
“Otto!”
She came over to the bed looking down at him with worshipful eyes blotting out all doubt. Stella had come back to him. That was the true miracle. Everything else was secondary. He tried to smile but it hurt too much.
Stella laid a palm on his chest, leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
“Don’t try to talk. It blew off half your jaw. The doctors did a bone graft. They’re going to take skin from your ass and paste it on your face. I told them you look like an ass anyway…”
Stella smiled as a tear drop rolled off her check onto Otto’s nose. He tried to sit up. Della firmly but gently pushed him back.
“Don’t. Give it some time.”
Otto tried to speak. Stella held up her hand.
“Don’t. I’ll get you a pad and a pen in a minute. The federal district court is indicting you for the killing of Agent Hornbuckle. I contacted John Bullis at Camacho, Anderson and Bullis. He’s one of the best criminal defense attorneys in the world. I can’t be your attorney for obvious reasons.” She held up a business card and placed it in the drawer of the nightstand next to his bed. “Call them.”
Otto didn’t care about that. She loved him again. He pointed to his wrist as if there were a watch.
“How long? You’ve been out for seventy-two hours. The FBI and federal marshals are rounding up every recent Pawnee Grove attendee for CAT scans. The Russians and Chinese are doing the same. There have been no immolations since you took control of the Witherspoon team.”
Otto pointed to her bandage.
“I got hit with some junk. When you chomped the rocket it was a directed explosion. One of the servers exploded. Gus is fine.”
Otto reached for a red Solo cup with a straw in it on the cantilevered table to his left. Stella reached over and snagged it, her breasts brushing his chest. She held it for him while he sipped.
“I have to get back to D.C. but I wanted to be here when you woke up to tell you I love you and I’ll be waiting for you. I’ll stay for the indictment. They found files at Hornbuckle’s that never should have left the building. Now there’s a full-scale investigation into his background.”
Otto shrugged and made a ‘what me worry’ expression with his hands. It’s what he’d wanted all along.
There was a knock at the door followed by the appearance of a tall middle-aged nurse in white slacks and blouse. “Mr. White, you’re awake!” Otto caught a glimpse of a
Denver police officer seated outside his room on a chair.
The nurse consulted an electronic monitor above and behind Otto, then timed his pulse with her index and middle fingers on his neck beneath the brace. “Excellent, excellent. Dr Haas will be in in a minute. He’s your reconstructive surgeon and he says that the chances are excellent he can restore full activity. Of course, you’ve suffered nerve damage and it will never be the same. It might even be numb. How do you feel?”
Otto made the thumb’s up.
The nurse said to Stella, “Shouldn’t be much longer” and left.
Moments later Dr. Haas entered. He was tall and broad with a full head of wavy hair and a mustache. “How’s the jaw?” he said.
Otto made the thumb’s up.
“We’re using a printing technique called laser melting to construct your new jaw. We take an X-ray for CAD and build it up with metallic titanium, then we coat it with a type of ceramic designed with your own DNA.. I’ll install the new jaw tomorrow.”
Otto made a writing gesture with his hands. Stella opened the night table drawer and withdrew a pad of note paper and a pen. She handed these to Otto. He scribbled, handed the pad to Haas. Stella looked over his arm.
How long before I can talk?
“Hard to say,” the surgeon said. “Possibly within a week if the graft holds.”
Otto nodded. The surgeon patted him on the leg. “We’ll have another look tomorrow.”
The surgeon left the room.
Lon Barnett was waiting.
***
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
“Horrifying Events”
Burnett knocked on the door and entered looking grim, holding some white papers folded in half lengthwise. He wore a two-piece gray suit, white shirt, blue tie, gold clasp. He nodded at Stella.
“Is this a good time?”
“It’s as good a time as any,” Stella said.
Barnett went to the foot of the bed. “Otto, this gives me no great pleasure. The entire team is proud of what you’ve been able to accomplish and I’m sure the court will keep that in mind.”
Barnett cleared his throat. “Otto White, you’re under arrest for the murder of Agent Hornbuckle. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney the court will provide one for you. Do you understand these rights?”
Otto nodded.
Barnett flattened out the papers, handed them to Otto with a pen. “Please sign at the bottom.”
“What charge did you settle on?” Stella said.
“Manslaughter. Not even the DA had the heart to charge him with first degree murder. Plus there’s his service and medical discharge to consider.”
Not guilty by reason of insanity. Just like Lester Durant.
Stella held her hand out. “May I?”
She read the indictment and handed it back.
“Again,” Barnett said, “I’d like to shake your hand.”
Otto stuck out his hand and they shook.
“Good luck,” Barnett said. “Say, the chief wants that Ocelot back. Do you have it?”
Otto shook his head. He hadn’t seen it since the lab.
“If it shows up I’d appreciate a call,” Barnett said and left.
Stella lingered a few minutes fussing over the pillows, making sure Otto had water close at hand. She took something out of her purse and slipped it under the covers into his hand. “In case you need to call somebody,” she whispered.
She kissed him again on the forehead, gathered her things and left.
Otto found the TV remote in the nightstand and turned it to the all news channel. The President was about to address the nation from the East Room. A hushed reporter announced his imminent arrival and then there he was, walking up to the podium shaking hands and exchanging greets. He squared off behind the big podium, which bristled with a half dozen mikes. The Presidential Seal hung on the front of the wooden lectern.
The President wore a gray three-piece pin-stripe, a light blue shirt, and a red, white and blue tie. With his silver hair neatly parted, he looked like a man you could trust with your infant daughter while heading down to the corner bar for a drink. If you looked up “president” in the dictionary, you would see this man.
The press secretary sang, “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States.” There was a smattering of applause in keeping with the solemnity of the event.
President Reynolds faced the camera with a serious expression. “Good evening my fellow Americans. I appear before you tonight to announce significant developments in a problem that has recently plagued many nations including our own, spontaneous human combustion.
“Although some authorities have known about this frightening phenomenon for years, it has only become public knowledge in the last few days. There have been countless rumors as to the source of these horrifying events from terrorism to God’s wrath. Yesterday, American scientists working in conjunction with their counterparts in Russia, China, France, Japan, the United Kingdom, Abu Dhabi and Brazil, pinpointed the cause, if not the method of these events.
“We have annihilated the leaders behind this wave of terror and expect that from now on instances of spontaneous human combustion will be drastically reduced if not stop altogether. I am not at liberty to divulge the perpetrators’ identities for reasons of national security but I can assure you that your government is doing its utmost to protect you from this threat.
“Fellow citizens--do not be afraid. Do not let these incidents disrupt your daily lives. Those behind these heinous crimes have paid with their lives. I want to thank our brave men and women in uniform and in particular the FBI and CIA for their contributions. I wish I could call out every single patriot who contributed to this case but again, for reasons of national security, I cannot.
“In the days and weeks to come, we will release the details as they become available. Thank you and good night.”
People shouted “Mr. President!”
Reynolds had turned to go but now he turned back, gripping the sides of the podium in both hands. “What is it, Jack?”
“Can you tell us what country or countries are behind the attacks?”
The President stared.
“What is it, Jack,” the President said. He began to sweat. A puff of smoke escaped the corner of his mouth. His eyes flared yellow and the screen went white accompanied by screaming, the sounds of furniture being shoved aside and Secret Service personnel shouting.
***