The Faithful (37 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTY

“No, it’s just not possible,” Ryanne said again. Her voice was faint, though. Josh could see her working over the implications.

“I just
couldn’t
have done something like that.”

“I didn’t know I was the head of a kidnapping ring, either,” Sumner said.

“But this . . . I mean, hiding a global catastrophe . . .” She shook her head. Her skin had a gray sheen to it and she looked like she might topple off her chair at any moment. Josh wanted to go to her, but he couldn’t seem to find his legs.

“Is it possible, though?” Ora asked. “I’m not asking
if
you hid that information, but
could
you have?”

There was a long silence. They waited her out. Jack had leaned back against the pillow with his eyes closed. As far as Josh could tell, the boy had gone to sleep.

Finally, she sighed and nodded. “I guess it’s possible. I’m the first in line to see the information the telescopes gather. Those are our telescopes,” she added. “Then I pass it along to the Minor Planet Center. It would be fairly simple not to report it. But . . .”

“But what?” Josh asked.

“LINEAR isn’t the only company working for Spaceguard. There’s NEAT and LONEOS and other smaller companies as well, and they all report their findings to the MPC just like we do.”

“So maybe each of those places has someone working for them that’s just like you?” Ora suggested.

“Maybe.” Ryanne grimaced. “Or maybe, if these NEOs are small, they never noticed them.”

“Ryanne.” Josh had to clear his throat. “Do you think it’s possible these meteorites are coming in?”

“I don’t know. Spaceguard’s focus has been on cataloging NEOs of global danger, which means larger than a kilometer. So there’s a good chance we wouldn’t know about a smaller one in advance. But that’s just
one
.” She yanked at her hair, tugging it back from her face.

“To have a whole bunch of them come down all at once—we’ve just never explored that scenario. I mean, it’s just not possible . . . under normal circumstances.”

“Apparently no one could predict hundreds of telekinetics bent on mass destruction,” Sumner said, then turned to Ora with a frantically determined look.

“I know what you’re thinking, Sumner,” Ora said with a shake of her head. “But you’re right. It took hundreds of telekinetics to do this, and it probably took them years, too. There’s no way Ashlyn and I are strong enough to reverse it.”

“Ryanne.” Lexy had been leaning against the far wall, listening silently. “Can you find these meteorites? Can they be stopped?”

Ryanne swallowed hard, and then turned to Josh. “I need to go back to New Mexico.”

“Yes,” Josh said. “I’ll go with you.”

“What about the rest of us?” Sumner asked.

“I think everyone else should stay here. And prepare,” Ryanne said.

“Ryanne. If they’re real, can they be stopped?” Lexy asked again.

“First we need to find them.” But Josh noticed Ryanne wouldn’t meet Lexy’s eyes.

By the time Phoenix and Ashlyn returned, Josh and Ryanne were ready to go. Josh watched as mother and daughter argued.

“I don’t understand. Why do you have to go?” Ashlyn asked again.

“Sweetheart, I have to go back to where I work.” This conversation had been going in circles for fifteen minutes, and Josh could see the strain it was putting on Ryanne.

“But why?”

“I . . .” Ryanne shook her head. “I promise I’ll come back for you. Ashlyn, I
promise
.”

“Why can’t I go with you?”

“It’s safer here. Please, honey. Stay with Phoenix, and Sumner, and the rest. They’ll take care of you until I come back.”

“I want to go with you!”

“It’s not safe.”

“Then why are
you
going? What if something happens to you?”

“Ashlyn, I’ll protect your mom. I promise I’ll bring her back to you.” Josh touched the girl’s arm gently.

“Then why can’t you protect me, too? I want to come!”

Phoenix jumped in. “Ashlyn, stay here with me. It won’t be for long.”

“I promise I’ll be back,” Ryanne repeated.

“When?” Ashlyn asked.

“A few days.”

“I don’t like this.” Her mouth was set in a stubborn line Josh found all too familiar, and her eyes were damp.

“You have to trust me. I will come back, but I need to make sure you’re safe.”

Finally the girl’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Fine.” She looked up at Ryanne, tears streaming down her cheeks. “But if you don’t come back, I’ll never forgive you!” And with that she stomped out of the room. They heard the door to her bedroom slam, and then the sound of her quiet sobbing.

“Damn.” Ryanne wiped angrily at her eyes.

“We’ll take care of her. Don’t worry,” Sumner said.

“Do you want us to tell her what’s going on?” Ora asked.

Ryanne shrugged. “I don’t know. The broad strokes, I guess.”

“I assume someone’s going to tell
me
what’s going on?” Phoenix asked.

“I’ll let Ora and Lexy have the pleasure,” Sumner said, and then turned to Josh. “I’ll drive you to Denver.”

Josh nodded. They had decided to rent a car, leaving the Suburban behind in case the rest needed to evacuate.

“Remember, my mom and Sheriff Lagrudo should arrive sometime tomorrow.”

“Ducking out just in time, huh?” Sumner cracked, and Josh managed a smile.

They said a solemn good-bye to the rest of them, and then followed Sumner outside. Josh climbed into the passenger seat and Ryanne curled up in a sniffling ball in the back row. She pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her eyes and ignored Sumner and Josh’s stilted conversation.

“They’re satellite phones,” Josh explained to him quietly. “They’ll work even if cell towers and landlines get knocked out. I’ve programmed my number into yours, so we can stay in contact.” He handed one of the two satellite phones to Sumner. “The other number is for Jack’s father, Keaton Barbetti. Please keep trying it.”

“Okay. Will they still work if a bunch of smoke gets into the atmosphere?” Sumner asked.

Josh shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess if things get bad enough, they might stop working, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Right. You promise you’ll keep in touch? Let us know what’s happening?”

“Of course,” Josh said.

“Do you think we’re safe where we are?”

“Father Narda told you to stay in the middle of the country, and you’re not that far away from The Ranch. I’m guessing you guys are as safe as possible.”

“Yeah. I guess,” Sumner agreed.

They rode in silence for several miles.

“Josh?” Sumner asked quietly. “If Ryanne can find these meteorites and notify the right people . . . do you think they’ll be able to stop them?”

Josh debated lying, but he didn’t have the energy for it. “No,” he admitted.

“Yeah. Me neither.” They didn’t speak again for the rest of the trip to Denver.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

“I’ve been dreaming about this for years,” I finally acknowledged outside Santa Fe.

“You’ve been dreaming about what?” Josh asked. He switched into the fast lane to move around a long-haul truck.

“Well, not about the Telekinetics or The Command. But about a meteorite crashing into Earth. It’s been a recurring dream for so long I stopped paying attention to it. I figured it was an occupational hazard, you know? Spend your life looking for asteroids and you’re bound to have nightmares about missing one.”

“Sure,” he agreed. “I have dreams about freezing up in a shoot-out and watching my fellow agents get killed.”

“I feel like I should have known.”

“How could you have put it all together?”

“I don’t know,” I said slowly, struggling to find the words. “I guess because I’m psychic.”

“But being psychic doesn’t mean you’re all-knowing, right?”

“Far from it. It’s more like you randomly get extra bits of information.”

“So, there you go.” He shrugged. “I don’t think you should feel responsible for not realizing the importance of those dreams.”

“But what if I hid information about those meteorites? What if I could have stopped
millions
of people from dying?”

“There’s still time,” Josh said. “Right?”

I glanced sideways at him. His jaw was tight, his eyes pinched. “Sure.”

Our uneasy silence lasted through Albuquerque, where we stopped to fill up with gas and get giant takeout cups of coffee. Once we were back on the road, Josh spoke.

“We’ve got another four or five hours to Las Cruces, and then however long to White Sands. It looks like we won’t be there before daylight. Is that going to slow you down?”

“No. I don’t need the telescopes. I need the data stored on our computers. I think I’ll ask Dan to help out; it’ll go twice as fast.”

“That will mean explaining the situation to him. Do you think that’s a good idea?”

I shrugged. “I don’t like it. But two heads are better than one.”

“Can you trust him?”

That stopped me. I hadn’t seen Dan since he sat on my couch drinking beer and trying to help me sort out my crumbling memories. That felt like a lifetime ago. He’d volunteered to pick me up from the hospital, but I had called to let him know Josh would take me, and that I would be taking a medical absence due to my concussion. “I always have.”

“Do you think he’s a part of
I Fidele
?”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“But you never know.”

“I guess you never know.”

“Ryanne, get some rest. You need to be clearheaded when we get there.”

Fifteen minutes before the end of his shift, I called Dan from the sat phone and asked him to wait for us. He agreed under the condition we bring him a massive cup of coffee and a box of doughnuts, so we stopped briefly in Las Cruces before heading directly into the rising sun.

I signed Josh in at the WSMR gate, where they examined his credentials and gave him a visitor’s pass that would allow him to come and go as needed.

Dan was sitting on the front stairs of the trailer when we arrived. As we came to a stop he stood up and waved, a giant grin on his face.

“Be careful,” Josh warned as I opened the door and climbed out.

“Red!” Dan boomed, rushing forward to lift me in a bear hug. “How the hell are you? Are you feeling any better?” He then seemed to remember I was injured, and gently placed me back on the ground. “Oops, sorry. Damn, girl, you look like you could use a month of rest. I guess I shouldn’t ask when you’re coming back to work? It’s been pretty lonely out here without you.”

Josh came up behind me and Dan’s smile faded. I realized he was looking at the double guns Josh had strapped to his waist. “What’s going on, Red?”

“Dan, this is Josh Metcalf. He’s with the FBI.”

“Is this the guy who drove you home from the hospital?” He held out a hand. “Dan Parks, I think we spoke on the phone.”

“That’s right. Nice to meet you.” Josh shook Dan’s hand.

“I thought FBI agents wore suits, and, you know . . . shaved.”

Josh smiled tightly. “It’s been a rough week.”

“I can see that,” Dan said, nonplussed by Josh’s cool demeanor. “So, why did you need me to stay? Not to be rude, but I have a hot date with my pillow.”

“Let’s go inside.” They followed me up the steps and into the trailer. I kicked aside Dan’s bag with a twinge of nostalgia, and dumped my purse in its usual spot on the desk. Josh set down the box of doughnuts and handed out the coffee.

“I need your help,” I told Dan.

“What else is new?” he joked, but when I didn’t smile he grew serious. “What’s up, Red?”

“I need to search through the sky coverage plots from the last three years.”

“Since you started here, you mean? What are the search parameters?”

“I want to compare each night’s findings against the MPC catalogs to see if there are any discrepancies.”

He blinked at me. “That’s a huge search. What are you looking for?”

“I think . . . I may have missed something. Will you help?”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying? That there’s an NEO that didn’t get sent to MPC for categorization?”

“Maybe more than one,” I admitted. My cheeks were burning.

“Holy hell, Red!” Dan was pale beneath his bushy beard. “Talk about a CLM!”

“What’s that?” Josh asked.

“Career-limiting move,” Dan replied.

“Will you help?” I asked again.

He turned to his monitor. “Fast, medium, or slow movers? Can we narrow down the search more?”

“I think we better look at all velocities.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, and started clicking away. “I’ll start from last week and move backward. You start from your first day on site and move forward. Eventually we’ll meet in the middle.”

“Okay,” I said, flicking on my computer.

“What can I do?” Josh asked.

“You can keep us supplied with coffee and sugar. We’re going to be here a while,” Dan said.

Around noon, Dan groaned and moved away from his monitor, rubbing his neck. “I need a break. And I’m starving.”

“Josh should be back soon,” I said distractedly.

“Have you found anything yet?”

“Not a thing. How about you?”

“Nada. I’m almost convinced you came up with this idea as a form of torture, but I don’t know what I did to deserve it.”

“I wish.” I was only half listening as I scrolled through data, comparing the MPC records to our original findings. My eyes were burning and my back was aching.

“Rowan, are you ever going to explain what the hell is going on?”

I swiveled in my chair. His eyes were as red as mine felt, and his brow was creased with strain. “If there’s time.”

“What do you mean,
if there’s time
?” he asked, and when I didn’t answer, his eyes widened. “You think we’re looking for an impactor? Holy
shit
, Red.” He turned back to his computer and I did the same.

“Ryanne, you need to eat,” Josh said quietly. His hand on my shoulder was warm and soothing.

“I will. Soon.”

“You haven’t eaten in seven hours.
Eat.
”

He stood above me, unrelenting, until I gave in and opened the box. It was an enchilada with a side of steamed vegetables. I worked my way through it as quickly as I could, hoping it would stay down. My stomach was sour and churning with anxiety.

Satisfied, Josh handed me a bottle of water and moved back to his station on the couch, where he’d spent the better part of the last ten hours reading through newspapers or dozing fitfully. The anxiety was coming off him in waves, and I understood it. He was a man of action, and the only thing he could do was wait.

I turned back to the monitor and lost myself in sky plots.

It grew dark, and the telescopes started their nightly work. I barely noticed. I ate a hamburger and washed it down with a gallon of coffee.

Dan was asleep, face cushioned on his arm as he snored into his keyboard. Josh was on the couch, a newspaper tented over his face and his feet propped on a cushion.

I made another trip to the bathroom and stretched out the kinks in my back before sitting down in front of the monitor. My eyes were gritty, and the information on the screen was blurred. I pressed my palms to my eyes and then blinked several times. Finally, the screen swam back into focus, and I got back to work. I was ten months into the data without seeing a single discrepancy.

“I think I found one. Red! Check this out.”

I swam out of the blackness. My heart was pumping with anxiety long before my foggy brain could catch up. Dim light was streaming through the blinds; dawn had arrived. Josh was climbing groggily off the couch.

Lifting my head off the desk made me groan. Apparently, someone had replaced my skull with a vise while I was sleeping, and it was squeezing viciously against my brain. I pushed my hands into my temples in an effort to keep my head from splitting open, and staggered toward Dan.

“I’m not sure,” he was mumbling. “I can’t find this one in the MPC catalog, but maybe I missed it?”

“Let me see,” I said hoarsely, and fell into the rickety chair beside him. A few minutes later, I leaned back. “Shit.”