Elijah's Chariot (The Forgotten Children Book 1) (5 page)

Svyeta
walked slowly with the throng of people pouring out of Red Square, her
shoulder-length blonde hair swaying gently in the spring wind. The parade on
the grounds in front of the Kremlin and St. Basil’s Cathedral had just ended.
It had been part memorial of some military victory Svyeta couldn’t remember and
part celebration of the coming of the meteorite, or ‘Ilya’ as the news
reporters had been calling it. 

It
was a beautiful Sunday – a day off from school for twelve-year-old Svyeta and
getting out in the rare sunshine to see the parade had sounded like fun. Plus
it was close by her family’s apartment so it had been relatively easy to get
her six-year-old sister, Zhenya, to go. Their mother was away putting in
overtime again at the hospital and their father was out drinking
who-knows-where. 

Svyeta
tugged on her sister’s hand as she slipped forward past a clump of slower
moving people. The crowd was starting to thin out as everyone made their way
home, catching buses or descending into the metro stations. There were a lot of
school kids at the parade. They were probably just as anxious to get out and
enjoy the nice weather, one of the first sunny days of the season. 

She
glanced back at her sister to make sure that she was doing okay. She didn’t
mind having to take care of Zhenya – in fact, she kind of liked it. Zhenya
could be impetuous at times, but she always listened to her older sister. And
being responsible for her gave Svyeta a sense of purpose – something to be in
charge of that helped to keep the loneliness of their small apartment at bay.

Up
ahead at the last corner before their street Svyeta saw a few older boys
playfully shoving some of the younger boys as they passed, laughing loudly at
each other. She recognized some of these older boys – they were a street gang
who were always causing some kind of trouble when they hung out together. They
were from this neighborhood, although she didn’t know exactly where they lived.
One of her friends had told her that they called themselves the Black Scorpions.
Some of them wore pants and coats that looked like they hadn’t been washed in,
well, forever. Svyeta wondered if some of them might even be homeless – it
seemed like more and more kids were living on the streets nowadays. 

One
of the boys she knew, Ivan, who was just a year or so older and had spiked
white hair, turned and glanced in her direction. She knew him from school where
he sometimes showed up for classes. He recognized her and turned to say
something to a taller and older teenager behind him. Ivan jerked his head
toward Svyeta, let out a short laugh, then turned to stare at her as she
approached, a thin smile on his face.

“Hey
Svyeta,” Ivan said casually as she and Zhenya made their way by the boys. The
older teen he’d just spoken to, a gaunt-faced boy with short cropped dark hair,
let go of one of the younger kids they’d stopped and pushed him on his way. He
stepped toward the girls, smiling broadly. 

“I
want to introduce you to someone,” Ivan continued, gesturing at the older boy.
The three other gang members snickered and hung back watching. 

“This
is Pyotr,” Ivan said. “He’s the leader of the Black Scorpions.”

“Well
hello beautiful,” Pyotr said as he leered down at Svyeta, ignoring her younger
sister entirely. “Ivan says you go to the same school – you live nearby, right?
Why haven’t I seen you around before? I think I would have remembered…”

“I
really doubt that,” Svyeta blurted. She’d said it without even thinking, her
nervousness making the words sound accusatory, much harsher than she’d meant
to. “I mean,” she said quickly, “I’m sure there are so many girls your own
age.”

Pyotr
laughed darkly. “There certainly are. But, I can still understand what
some
,”
he tilted his head toward Ivan, “see in you. Makes me think getting back to
school to get some more… learning opportunities might be a good idea.”

“Pyotr’s
really smart – he doesn’t need school. He always knows just what to do,” Ivan
said.

“Exactly,
Ivan my friend, well said. In fact, I’ve got an idea.”

Pyotr
stepped after Svyeta as she started to edge away, holding Zhenya’s hand tightly
by her side. 

“Some
of us are getting together at Ivan’s place right now, for a little party. You
know, to celebrate that meteorite Ilya or whatever they’re calling it. You
should come over. And you can bring her too,” Pyotr added as he gestured at
Zhenya. 

“We
can’t – my mom’s waiting for us,” Svyeta lied. “We have to be home now.”

“Come
on, you’ll like it – Ivan’s a ton of fun. You just need to get a drink in his
hand. Plus,” he leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, “I think he likes you.”

Ivan
either didn’t hear or pretended not to as his expression didn’t change at all –
he just continued staring, his lips forming a tight line.

“I’m
sorry,” Svyeta said walking past the gang leader. “We have to get home.”

“Svyeta!”

Both
the girls and the group of gang members turned at the shout that had come from
just a few paces away. An unshaven man in his late thirties with shaggy hair
hanging over his eyebrows and ears and wearing mismatched clothes staggered
toward them, swaying a bit after each step.

“Come
here, what are you doing out so late?” His words were thick and garbled as he
continued to lurch toward the girls.

Svyeta’s
heart hung in her throat. She wasn’t sure if she was more relieved or terrified
to see her father. On one hand she was grateful he was there to help rescue her
from this situation and on the other she was scared he was just going to make
it worse.

“Papa!”
Pyotr yelled, holding his arms out wide before bursting into hysterical
laughter and slapping the shoulders of his fellow gang members. 

Zhenya
ran to her father as he stopped and swayed dangerously, appearing to be on the
verge of tipping over as he shifted his confused gaze to the teenage boys. She
wrapped her arms around his legs trying to hold him steady. 

Svyeta
took her father’s hand. “Let’s go Papa, let’s get home.”

“Yes,
Papa, you really should get home since it’s so
late
. It’s almost, oh my,
it’s almost noon! Looks like you’ve already started your celebration early, old
man.”

Svyeta’s
father’s face turned red with anger and he began advancing toward Pyotr. Svyeta
and Zhenya stepped in front of him, leaning their bodies into his to stop him
like they had a hundred times before over the years. It was always better for
him and everyone else if he just stayed away when he was like this.

“Papa,
Mama wants us home. She’s waiting with dinner,” Svyeta said urgently to her
father. 

The
man blinked and stopped in place, seemingly heedless of his two daughters still
pushing their entire body weight into him. Finally, with Svyeta tugging on his
hand, he turned away from the Black Scorpions and started shuffling toward
their apartment building. 

“Next
time then, Svyeta. Don’t worry though, we’re always throwing great parties.
Right Ivan?” Pyotr asked as he smiled after the two girls pulling their father
home.

Ivan
didn’t say anything, just nodded as he stared at Svyeta. His eyes, which hadn’t
left Svyeta’s face during the entire conversation, were wide and emotionless.
Svyeta had no idea what thoughts were going on behind them. She found that she
was a little afraid to know.

“We’ve
got six Russian Air Force men dead – with no readily identifiable cause of
death. And two reports within the last hour that say there may be similar
mysterious deaths within the vicinity of Yekaterinburg,” said a strong,
slightly east-coast-accented voice. Administrator Leonard Hoffman paused in his
loud tirade of the past few minutes to wipe his glasses with a monogrammed
handkerchief, a dramatic effect at which the head of NASA was obviously well
practiced.  

Placing
the glasses back on his pink face, he continued, “Now, I don’t have to tell any
of you here how ugly the blame game is going to get if we don’t start coming up
with some definite answers to explain these phenomena fairly soon.”

Sean,
Kevin, all Kevin’s NASA colleagues and several U.S. government officials were
crammed into a large conference room back at the Embassy. They’d stayed at the
Russian Space Agency for a couple of hours after Jerry had landed, trying to
find out more about what exactly had happened. After no additional information
had seemed forthcoming, they’d all returned to the Embassy for an emergency
meeting. Disorder and chaos was so widespread across the usually quiet compound
that Sean had been able to walk right into the conference room behind his
father and quickly found a seat against the wall at the back of the room.
Everyone was too agitated and exhausted to notice the boy. 

Jabbing
his finger into the open dossier on the table, Administrator Hoffman addressed
the large group of Embassy officials and the few representatives from NASA who
were gathered in the now too-small and stuffy conference room. 

“I
need a status report that I can deliver to Washington on what the hell went
wrong and what we’re doing to manage this situation. Garrett – what’ve you got
for me?”

The
boyish deputy director, his innocent-looking face and nervously darting eyes
belying his fifty-three years, stood up from his seat at the table and
addressed Hoffman in a somewhat timid voice. 

“Well,
we have about the same information as we did two hours ago. Asteroid JR0406
underwent a velocity reduction as it entered Earth’s atmosphere. The slower
speed was apparently not enough to cause the degree of impact and ensuing blast
that our team had predicted. Because of this, we believe that there may be a
chance that the meteorite is still largely intact. We haven’t yet determined
why it slowed down, but we do know that it is in the vicinity of the original
impact site that we had previously estimated – a few hundred kilometers
north-east of Yekaterinburg, most likely very close to the city of Serov.”

Taking
a deep breath, Garrett Larson continued, “As for the six soldiers, earliest
reports indicate that they died of heart attacks. This could have been caused
by some type of electrical surge that was generated when Jerry passed by or… it
could be something else entirely. The Russians haven’t exactly been willing to
share much more at this point.”

He
looked questioningly around the room, possibly hoping that someone else had
something to add. When no one volunteered any additional information or
theories, he turned back to Hoffman who had been staring at him sternly during
his entire report. “Administrator, we are unlikely to find out anything more
until the Russian team that has already been deployed is able to find the exact
site. Once they do, our people are on standby to fly out there and get to the
bottom of this – with your permission.”

Sean
managed to steal a glance at his father over the shoulders of all the suited
men sitting in front of him. He was standing at a table, near the front of the
room, his eyes half closed as he listened to information that all of them
already knew. Kevin had been complaining about a headache shortly after all the
commotion started at the Russian Space Agency. Sean knew his father needed rest
– he could see it the way that he was leaning against the table with his
shoulders stooped. Sean’s nap on the couch the night before was the only thing
that was keeping him from falling asleep in his chair. He wondered if the news
about Jerry not exploding had reached the television networks yet. Sean could
just imagine his mother’s fears once she saw that something unexpected had
occurred. He hoped she wouldn’t worry too much. They hadn’t had a chance to
call her yet – all communications outside the Embassy were forbidden. It was
some kind of security lockdown. 

Despite
his concern for his parents and his own weariness, Sean was still very excited
about Jerry. If large portions of the meteorite were still intact and they were
able to get out to the crash site in time, they might even be able to identify
some of the various types of gases that were still being emitted from the
astral rock and get a better idea of composition and temperature before
everything was tainted too much by Earth’s elements. Sean hoped he would still
be allowed to participate in the initial field research. He just couldn’t
imagine coming all this way and not being able to learn firsthand about the
otherworldly visitor. 

Suddenly,
Sean was aware of eyes on him. He glanced around quickly and noticed the marine
guard at the door, a very young man with blonde hair, was watching him from the
corner of his eye. Sean’s eyebrows came together questioningly and the marine
nodded his head and glanced down at Sean’s feet. The boy looked down and
noticed that the half-full cup of juice that he’d placed there had tipped over
and spilled on the carpet. He quickly grabbed a handful of napkins from a
nearby table and began trying to mop up the mess. As he did so, he glanced back
in embarrassment at the marine who was now staring straight ahead trying to
restrain a smile that was tugging at the corners of his mouth. Sean smiled too
and finished cleaning up the juice as best he could. He sat down and glanced
over at the marine and mouthed “thank you.” The marine smiled and nodded. Sean
noticed the name on his uniform – “McCaney,” then quickly turned his attention
back to the debate going on at the front of the room. Administrator Hoffman was
talking again.    

“Look,
I’m as anxious as anyone else to get out there and see what makes this thing
tick, but we are trying to determine how to handle the situation with the
international press and everyone back in D.C. They are looking at us as the
representatives of the U.S. in Moscow to explain what is happening here – what
are we going to tell them?”

“Tell
them nothing,” said a loud voice from the other end of the table. Alan Connors,
Director of NASA Public Relations, lounged sedately in his chair, hands resting
comfortably on his chest as he leaned back. The PR man’s eyes were closed and
he looked like he was wincing slightly. “Tell them nothing at all happened.”

“You
can’t be serious – we’ve got to tell them something,” protested Hoffman. 

“We
will – we’ll tell them the truth. That the meteorite came down and nothing
happened – no explosions, no destruction, no nothing. Oh, and by the way, a few
Russian airmen were killed in an accident and no, there’s not any substantiated
correlation between the two events. Probably just outdated Russian equipment.
Then, we remind them that because Jerry didn’t explode, there’s a good chance
that a 150 meter long meteorite is sitting out in the middle of some Russian
forest waiting for us to come out and discover the secrets of the universe. And
that they’ll be the first ones to hear about it when we do.”

Connors
looked like he was entirely past the point of caring when the last time he’d
slept was. His immaculate dinner suit from the night before was wrinkled, his
hair mussed and his dry, cynical voice was laden with a strong under-current of
apathy. 

“Besides,”
Connors continued, “they don’t have to wait to hear the news from us – the
world’s reporters have been broadcasting everything since early this morning.
Sure, they don’t know about the deaths yet, but when they do, they’ll think for
less than five seconds about those poor Russkiy soldiers before they start
eating up the next juicy tidbits of Jerry updates.”

He
had their attention now. Sean thought it was strange that a room full of
scientists and other experts were listening to the guy in charge of talking to
the media when they were deciding what should be done about Jerry. Especially a
guy who seemed like he’d almost given up entirely on the whole thing.

Connors
stood up slowly, his eyes sweeping the expectant faces around the room. He
walked over to stand beside Garrett Larson, the scientist’s boyish face
remaining blank.   

“That’s
our position – an air traffic accident, no big explosion and we’re looking into
it.”

There
were a few nods of ascent, mostly on the part of the embassy officials. Hoffman
studied Connors’ and Larson’s faces for several seconds, then glanced in
Kevin’s direction briefly before speaking. “Alright, I think we can go with
that – for now. The best idea is going to be to get Dr. Prochazek and the rest
of the team out by tomorrow morning – we’ve got to get some real answers as
soon as possible. We can’t float this forever.” 

The
room broke into scattered conversations as the breach-birthed plan began to be
put into action. Connors’ shoulders slumped and he stared dully ahead,
seemingly unaffected by his small victory. He just looks tired and bored, Sean
thought. He’s not a scientist – he doesn’t really care what happened to Jerry.
He doesn’t have the irresistible pull of scientific discovery to keep him
going. Sean looked over at his father again. He couldn’t put his finger on it
exactly, but his father looked older somehow, like he’d aged a little just
during the night. Sean knew he’d be okay once he had some sleep and was able to
get rid of his headache. And once they were able to finally start going out to
find Jerry. That’s all he needed and he would be just as excited and strong as ever.