The Long Way Home Read online

  “Good afternoon, and thank you for joining us for this special report. We have managed to contact one of the leaders of the group calling themselves the Fatalists. Anthony Carlisle, can you hear me?”

  A man in his early 50s appeared on the screen. His silver hair was slicked back, and his blue eyes glinted in the studio lights. The brown sport jacket he wore didn’t quite match the yellow shirt beneath it. Carlisle’s hands were folded, resting on the table in front of him, fingers intertwined. He smiled into the camera.

  “I can, Carol. And please, call me Tony.”

  “OK, Tony,” Carol said. “Over the past few weeks, your group has condemned multiple efforts that leading scientists are working on to address the approach of the Oppenheimer String. Why have you taken this angle as opposed to helping or at least encouraging these efforts?”

  Tony held his smile hostage and used it to hide any reaction to the anchor’s probing. “Carol, this is a question of worldview. I can understand the attractive thought that mankind can control destiny. There is power in spreading the idea that we have the ability to change our fate. This belief brings people in line. It makes people follow orders.”

  “So you’re saying that we have no ability to affect our future?”

  Tony leaned back in his chair and raised his hands, palms toward the camera. He allowed his smile to drop away except for the corners of his mouth. “All we are asking for people to consider,” he said, “is that God is in control. And the acceptance of that fact is setting people free. He has chosen our time and these asteroids are His tools.”

  Carol grimaced. “Nobody has been able to determine the final track of the asteroids, but you already think this is judgment on humans?”

  “How could it not be?” Tony asked. The smile was gone. “A group of unusually large objects are traveling toward us, and in all likelihood, they will destroy all life on our planet. Wouldn’t that qualify as the ultimate method of judgment?”

  “It could also be a random event in a galaxy full of various objects,” Carol said.

  “Please.” Tony’s smile was back. “Anyone who can convince themselves in some atheistic explanation that the timing between the rise in immorality in our society and a world ending event being coincidence is simply fooling themselves. God cleansed the Earth once with a flood. We’ve evolved past the point of being wiped out by flood, so now He’s sending a group of large rocks from space to do the job.”

  “If you are referencing the story of Noah, God did allow humans to survive through the flood. Why would it be different now?”

  “We’ve moved past the point of the story where redemption in the flesh is possible. Although the stories of man and his relationship with God started in numerous places around the world, every major religion has a story about the moment of reckoning. This event is our story coming to an end.”

  “That doesn’t sound like much freedom,” Carol said.

  “On the contrary, humans spend day after day taking each moment for granted. This is a chance to shrug off the things that are meaningless and instead take time to inject meaning into our lives. We can take time to talk to the person across the dinner table instead of burying ourselves in a smartphone. Shut down that spreadsheet and go out and throw the baseball with your kid. Visit the elderly person down the street who just wants to have a conversation with someone. Take this newfound freedom to find religion again.”

  “How do you expect people to do that when they know about the disaster that could happen?”

  “All of our lives are on a clock,” Tony said, leaning forward. “They always have been. The thing that has changed is that we are all now on a collective clock. If anything, that should unite us.”

  “That’s an interesting take on all of this. What does your group have to say about reports of violence being carried out against organizations working on solutions for the Oppenheimer String’s approach?”

  Tony wielded a sly grin that made Carol involuntarily recoil. “We harbor no ill will toward anyone who feels differently about the meaning of this event.”

  “But we have reports that Fatalist protests have destroyed property and one person was beaten to the point of needing to be hospitalized.”

  At this point, Tony’s smile was strained. “Carol, any of those incidents were carried out by infiltrators looking to tarnish our reputation. We have even gone so far as to provide additional support to communities that are affected by the government’s failing food rationing plan. Despair will quickly turn to anger and rioting if our friends and neighbors do not have life’s basic necessities. Our group is purely looking to help.”

  Beeping from Patrick’s wrist pulled his attention away from the TV.

  Good grief. I’m going to be late to our video conference.

  He turned and hurried down the hallway.

  Patrick pushed the call button for the elevator and rubbed his temples. Since the meeting in Duke’s office, time had flown by. Although Duke had been up front on Space Vision’s needs of Patrick’s computer programming talents, it was an unbelievable challenge due to its scope. Space Vision was a company with more departments than Patrick could count. He tried to keep up with the constant project requests, but the dizzying pace made it impossible to meet with every team that needed something. Thanks to Duke’s help, he had been able to focus his time by communicating with some key players; primarily the team of directors.

  A ding sounded, shifting his attention back to the elevator. He recognized one of Space Vision’s directors inside the opening elevator doors. Stepping into the waiting elevator, he greeted the woman standing there.

  “Hello, Victoria,” he said with a polite nod.

  Vice President of Human Interaction in Closed Environments (or as Space Vision employees called it, HICE) Victoria Clark stood there wearing a pressed business suit. Her hair was pulled tightly into a bun. Victoria had been a leader in real world applications of psychology before Duke hired her. Patrick hadn’t quite understood the implications of her role, but Duke held her in high esteem and rarely started a meeting without her.

  He joined her and the door closed. Butterflies in his stomach signaled the elevator’s descent. The elevator slowed and another ding sounded as the doors opened. A middle-aged man with a stack of papers clutched to his chest hurried into the elevator.

  Patrick smiled at the man. “How are you, Clarence?”

  The man smiled, nodded and turned around. Clarence’s jacket was tucked into one side of his pants while his shirt was sticking out of the other side.

  Director of Experimental Technologies Clarence Johnston always wore expensive jackets and ties, but they were rarely in their proper place. Clarence had his hands in so many projects that Patrick wasn’t sure how anyone could keep them all straight.

  Sometimes I feel the way Clarence looks.

  A few seconds later, the door reopened, and Patrick waved to Victoria and Clarence as they scurried out of the elevator.

  Even with a limited list of people to meet on a regular basis, Patrick was running ragged. Activities at Space Vision started before dawn, workdays ran into the night, and evening meetings laid out plans for the following day. He always felt like he was running behind, and today was no different. He hustled through the IT offices of Space Vision. It was the fastest way to get to his office.

  The area was much quieter than normal. With his arms clasped behind him, Patrick scanned the room he was walking through. There were a few techs manning their work spaces – three were huddled over their monitors while another one walked around his cubicle, speaking to no one in the area as he troubleshooted a problem via remote access. It didn’t dawn on Patrick to wonder where the person on the other end of the line could be. His head was spinning from trying to keep up with everything happening at Space Vision. He glanced up at the clock on the wall and saw he was almost late for the latest planning video conference.

  Patrick rounded a corner, walked into his office, and made a beeline for his desk.
The man’s fingers flew across the keyboard, the computer accepted the password entered, and the screen came to life. He opened the program to join the conference call and made it just in time. As the conferencing program loaded, small boxes containing the faces of the attendees appeared at the top and bottom of the screen. He saw the faces of Security Chief Richard Carter, IT Director Miyako Chan, and Director of Space Initiatives Sanjeed Burman. Boxes for Victoria and Clarence appeared as they logged in to the meeting.

  One final box appeared, and the audio started before the image of Duke’s face had fully loaded.

  “Thank you all for joining today.” His voice came through loud and clear. “As you all know, we have reorganized the entire Space Vision effort to new projects related to Oppenheimer. Although many of you have inquired about the culmination of our efforts, we decided early on that some compartmentalization was necessary. I apologize for that, but it has proven to have been necessary. We have seen with the challenges faced by the UN’s project to create a multinational effort to relocate the human race, it is very difficult for groups from many different points of view with very different priorities to all work cohesively. I’m proud of you all for embracing our goal of being a private company that can be nimble enough for important decision making while still being able to come together to reach departmental goals. With that being said, I have decided a change in our strategy is required.

  “Now that we are seeing a rise in the effectiveness of Fatalist attacks on projects similar to our own, your safety and security is of paramount importance. As many of you know, once the Oppenheimer news rippled across the world, religious zealots began rising up. Their goal seems to be disrupting the efforts of any government or business that are working on solutions to survive the possibility of a close pass with the Earth. My contact in the US government has confirmed that this group has successfully carried out another assassination of a jet propulsion scientist in Europe over the weekend. This news is not to scare you. I’m telling you this to relate the gravity of the situation.

  “Richard, our chief of security, has approved the final updates on a secret site that Space Vision will be moving to. By the end of the week, I am relocating upper-level project groups to this site to finish your important work. In about two months, all Space Vision staff will make the move. I have attached a data packet at the end of this conference that will give you instructions on what to bring, how to get here, and when to leave. I look forward to seeing you all join us in Phase 2 of our operation. Keep up the great work you’ve all been doing.”

  With that, the screen changed to black except for a blinking link.

  <>

  Patrick leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin. To his knowledge, this was the first time Duke had openly discussed the group the media was calling the Fatalists. Although Patrick knew of the new work site, he didn’t have a clue where it was. On top of that, the move was an abrupt change.

  “Duke must have gotten wind of something,” he muttered under his breath and moved his mouse to hover over the link. A red light on his phone started blinking. The caller ID gave away that it was Duke.

  Speak of the devil.

  He simultaneously picked up the receiver and clicked the link to download the file.

  “Hello, old friend,” Duke didn’t wait for a greeting from the other side. “I’m sorry for not getting you in the loop prior to this announcement.” He sounded tired and his voice was a little haggard.

  “Is everything OK, Duke? This announcement seems like it was out of the blue.”

  The file finished downloading, and a PDF appeared with Space Vision’s logo at the top followed by an ominous message:

  CONFIDENTIAL: This document is for your eyes only. Do not share this information with anyone INCLUDING other Space Vision employees.

  “Yes, everything is just fine,” the CEO answered. “We’re just moving up the timetable. Did you get your packet?”

  “It just finished downloading.” He scanned the document and found the address of the new project site halfway down the page.

  “I hear Texas is nice this time of year,” he said with a little sarcasm.

  “I’ll see you when you land in Abilene, Patrick.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Joe turned on the lamp next to the darkening living room window.

  “It’s your turn,” Mary said.

  He took a seat on the floor next to Ayrin and Mary. Joe picked up six dice at the center of their circle and took his turn in the evening game of Zeroed — Joe’s favorite game. Checking the dice, he saw no Large Hakuna this time, but he kept rolling as his turn got him over the 10,000-point mark.

  Ayrin sat back and smirked. “How are you able to practically call your roll before you make it?”

  Before Joe could start a new scoring sheet, he heard tires squeal in the driveway. Ayrin and Joe got up and followed Mary to the front of the house to see what was happening.

  Ayrin reached the front door to see Victor walking into the house via the kitchen. She peeked outside through the screen door. The car was parked at an unusual angle and the passenger side rear tire was still in the grass. There was a slight track behind it. Then she heard Victor talking. She walked to the edge of the living room. He was sitting on the couch and Mary was confronting him.

  “Victor, you have a family counting on you. You can’t go off mad and come home drunk.”

  “So wha’d do you want me t’do? I los’d my job. Nob’dy is hiring. This is it! Here’z to the end of the world.” He raised the beer bottle up, did a mock toast motion, brought it to his mouth, and then tilted it back. Mary put her hands up to the sides of her head. She massaged her temples, as if that would stop the headache brought on by Victor’s actions. The frustrated woman stormed into the kitchen without saying anything. Not seeing the eyes watching her from the front hall, she disappeared into the back hallway on her way to the parents’ bedroom. A door slammed in the back of the house.

  Joe looked back to the living room. Victor acted like nobody else was home. He turned the TV on and changed the channel a couple of times. The kids headed down the hallway without a sound. Joe carefully shut the door and climbed into bed without changing his clothes. He closed his eyes.

  CHAPTER 8

  Joe rolled out of bed, showered, and got dressed for school. Mary got his lunch out of the fridge and handed it to him. The boy threw it into his backpack and hugged her. He peeked around the corner of the kitchen into the living room.

  “Bye, Dad.”

  Victor, still asleep on the couch, mumbled something and rolled over: the same response Joe had gotten every morning over the past week.

  The boy frowned, lowered his head, and turned to walk out the front door. Ayrin frowned, feeling Joe’s sadness as he plodded out of the house. She slid past the screen door as it swung closed behind her. A click sound confirmed that Mary locked the entry door.

  Halfway to school, Ayrin heard something behind them. She turned and saw a group of teenagers snickering and whispering to each other. They were half a block away and closing. Joe saw them too and started walking faster.

  “Wait up!” One of them called out.

  The group broke into a jog.

  Ayrin kept up with Joe as he started running. School was just around the next corner.

  Can we make it?

  Footsteps from the teens chasing them grew louder as they got closer. The bully in the lead kicked Joe’s foot, and the boy crashed to the ground. Joe rolled over and stared up at the kid standing in front of him. The bully’s cohorts caught up and stood on either side of him.

  “Leave them alone,” a man said from Joe’s right.

  Everyone turned to see a gray-haired man wearing a dirty T-shirt, ratty jeans and holding a shotgun walking toward them.

  Old man Sanderson!

  “You punks need to leave kids alone,” Sanderson said.

  The teens turned and ran.

  Old man Sanderson reached down w
ith his free hand and helped Joe pick himself up off the ground. “You OK?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir.” Joe answered as he picked up two of the dice he always carried with him.

  Ayrin nodded.

  “Good. Now head on off to school. You don’t want to be late.”

  “Thank you,” Joe said as he and Ayrin turned and jogged away.

  “Don’t mention it,” Sanderson said.

  CHAPTER 9

  A slight jostle woke Patrick. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked around the plane. Victoria, Clarence, Sanjeed, and Miyako were seated sporadically throughout the cabin. The airplane’s landing gear deployed from the underside of the plane and reached out toward the runway. A jolt from touchdown jarred him as they hit the tarmac, and then he could feel the aircraft’s immediate deceleration. It was unfamiliar to him but not unexpected. A few seconds passed, and the plane came to a stop. Patrick followed the others to the door and stepped onto a landing at the top of a flight of stairs. Abilene’s morning heat made him feel like he had just walked into a humid oven.

  Patrick reached the bottom of the stairs and saw the group being greeted by none other than Duke. He looked to Duke’s right and saw Richard Carter, Space Vision’s chief of security. Rumor had it that Richard escorted Duke everywhere nowadays. His presence was a confirmation of that.

  What could possibly require the security chief’s presence at the Abilene Airport?

  Along with Duke and Richard, there was another man that Patrick didn’t recognize.

  After greeting the directors, Duke turned to Patrick. “My old friend! I’m so glad you made it!”

  Duke moved forward with purpose. He hugged Patrick and under his breath said, “We must find time to catch up. So much has happened since we last talked.”

  Duke turned and motioned at the men with him. In his normal voice he said, “Old friend, you know Richard, yes?” The question was rhetorical. Everyone knew the chief of security at Space Vision. Patrick was no different, especially at his level of clearance. Richard had bristled with disapproval that an outsider had so much access without any vetting. But then again, Duke signed the security chief’s paycheck.