Authors: Kevin George
Wilson nodded his head and turned to walk from the room. Mansfield saw the Defense Secretary retrieving his pack of cigarettes from his pocket before the door even closed behind him.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
President Marshall and Peter Mansfield sat in the back of the presidential limo, the two men on their way to yet another speech that the Chief of Staff had wanted to cancel. Marshall – not quite the publicity hound he had always been – justified giving the speech by saying that he had to continue with his public appearances like everything was normal. The alone time the two men spent together on these kinds of trips usually allowed them time to plan and discuss the comet situation. But Marshall was silent today, instead looking out the window at the scenery he must have seen hundreds of times before. Mansfield knew something was wrong, but he did not want to bring it up unless the president wanted to talk about it.
"Do you really think we'll be able to pull this off?" Marshall finally asked, still not looking away from the window.
"I don't think it will be a problem, sir. You give these union speeches all the time. The Secret Service is in place, so I don't think you'll have to worry about – "
"I don't mean the speech," Marshall said, turning toward Mansfield. "I'm talking about the comet, our
great secret
. We've been lucky so far that nobody has found out. I just wonder how long our luck will hold out."
"Mr. President, the only thing we were lucky about was that one of our own men discovered the comet and came to us instead of the press. Everything that’s happened since then hasn’t been luck, it’s been skill. Besides, as long as we are smart with the distribution of information, we’ll keep things quiet."
"But what about the loyalty of everyone involved? Do you think we can trust everyone?"
"I don’t think we have anything to worry about with Armour," Mansfield said. "He's the one who seems to be on the same page with us. And his choice of astronaut seems like it has worked out well so far."
"I agree," President Marshall said. "Armour has certainly been our strongest ally during all of this."
"Now Wilson on the other hand, I'm not too sure if we can fully trust him."
The president sighed, hoping that the men's disagreement would not lead to this kind of further negativity.
"I think Henry will be all right. After all, he did take a big risk by arranging the transfer of the nuke."
"I'm not sure he took that risk to help the group, though. Wilson must have known we could have gotten nukes one way or another. He only did what he did so he could remain part of our Circle."
"I'm not sure you give him enough credit, Peter."
Mansfield opened a briefcase that rested on the seat beside him. He rifled through some papers until he found what he was looking for.
"Sir, I hope you are not upset with me, but I've had some of my people keeping an eye on the other members of the 'Inner Circle.' Just following them around, figuring out what they've been up to. And your friend Wilson has been talking to the media quite a bit, two lunches with reporters just last week."
The president looked back out the window.
"Henry's like me, he's always loved the media. That doesn't mean he said anything about the comet. If he had, don't you think we'd have heard about it by now?"
The president sighed again and Mansfield took this as a sign that he didn’t want to talk about this anymore. Mansfield closed his briefcase and began to look out the window himself.
"I hate having to think about these kinds of things," Marshall said. "What do you think about Ackerman? If there's anybody who's the weak link in this chain, I would have to think it's the outsider."
"I have to disagree with you on that, Mr. President. I think Ackerman – while a bit odd and not...totally there mentally – has been quite an asset to us. He's given up his wife and his life for the project these past two years and his insights on comets and how to handle them have proven invaluable. We may have been unlucky having a normal citizen as part of the group, but at least we got a guy who knows his stuff... despite his deteriorating psychological state."
"Wasn't he supposed to come to the White House today?" the president asked.
"He was, sir. The agents we flew out to get him said there was no answer at his home. I even tried calling him but there was no answer again."
"Do you think this might be too much for him to handle? We don't need some guy who knows the most important information in the world having a mental breakdown on us."
"You know how much I disliked having a commoner knowing about everything at first. But like I've said, Earl's actions over the past two years have proven just how valuable and reliable he is to us. I'm sure he's fine, sir. He’s just a little bit flaky sometimes, that's all."
"Either way, I'd like you to fly out and check on him today. Take a charter flight, the round-trip shouldn't take more than half a day. Bring him up to the White House, the three of us will sit down and discuss everything that’s been going on, get his insights on the progression of Phase One. I don't need the added pressure of worrying about what he’s going to say and to whom he’s going to say it."
These were the kinds of chores Marshall had been sending his Chief of Staff on recently, the kinds that really made Mansfield hate his job. He was far too important of a man to be running silly little errands. But he also realized that if the president needed Earl to be found, he was the only person who could go find him.
"Okay, sir. I will take a flight down there later tonight."
"No," the president said. "I want you to go now. Take a few agents along with you just to make sure everything is okay."
"Sir, I don't think that'll be necessary."
The limo pulled to a stop in front of an old warehouse building and Mansfield saw throngs of cameramen bustling towards the car, fighting for favorable position to take the best shot of the president. Four Secret Service agents circled around the limo’s door, holding back the photographers who got too close.
"Necessary or not, I want at least two agents with you at all times," Marshall said. "You can never be too careful, especially not when you are so important to me and this whole damn situation."
"Yes, sir,” Mansfield agreed half-heartedly.
"And I also think that for the time being, maybe we should leave Ackerman and Henry Wilson out of the loop about the specifics of Phase Two," the president said, just as one of his agents opened the door. "Just in case."
The somber look that had been etched on Marshall's face during the ride to his speech was suddenly replaced with a wide grin, his usual public façade as of late.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Where is everyone?
Earl Ackerman looked all around Times Square, shocked to see that there was not another living soul to be found. The 'City That Never Sleeps' was now apparently in a deep slumber and it was all very confusing to Earl. He suddenly found himself very hungry.
I could go for a nice hot dog. You can't find hot dogs quite as good as the ones you get from the street vendors in New York,
he thought to himself
. Wait, that's a strange thing to think. I've only been to New York once in my entire life and I sure don't remember the street cuisine being that good.
As odd as his thoughts were, Earl did not seem to think they warranted further examination. He crossed the street to where a hot dog cart was parked on the corner. Again, he was back to the problem that there were no people around, which meant there was no vendor to pay. He opened up the cart and saw plenty of hot dogs floating around in the steaming water. Although he could not clearly smell anything, he somehow knew the aroma was delectable.
Should I just take one? I can't steal, that wouldn't be right.
Earl finally decided that he would just help himself, but he would leave money on top of the cart for when the vendor returned from wherever he’d gone. He fished out a dog and put it on a bun before applying robust amounts of ketchup and relish. Earl could not remember the last time he ate and he was just about to take a bite when he realized he had not yet paid. He put the hot dog down and went into his pockets, finding that he had no cash on him.
What do I do now?
A look across the street answered his question, where a big sign proclaiming "First National Bank" hung over a doorway.
Perfect, what luck I have! I can go get some money to pay for my food and maybe someone inside will be able to tell me where everyone went.
Earl crossed yet another street and entered the revolving doors of the bank. The bank was huge and luxuriant, and Earl thought in looked more like the lobby of a fancy hotel. But to his surprise, the bank was completely empty as well.
"Hello?" Earl yelled. "Is anybody here?"
His words echoed off the wall and he was met with no response in return. Although by himself in the bank, Earl still walked through the roped line until he reached the first teller window.
"Hello?" he called again, tapping the little bell multiple times.
At this point, Earl was starting to get annoyed. His growling stomach was the only noise he could hear and there was no way he wasn't going to eat because everybody just up and disappeared. Against his better judgment, he hopped over the teller counter and opened up the cashier's drawer. Hundred-dollar bills packed this large drawer. This was more money than Earl had ever seen in his entire life.
The amount of money in this drawer could pay for my house. Actually, it could probably pay for every house on my street.
He backed away from the drawer without taking any money and walked down the small hallway behind the counter. The end of this hallway opened up into a large vault. Gripped by curiosity, Earl could not help but try to open the large, circular metal door. He expected it to be locked, but just like everything else in the bank, all he had to do was try and the door opened.
Golden beams shined in his face, causing Earl to shield his eyes from the bright light. His eyes grew accustomed to the light after a few moments and he saw that the room was stacked from floor to ceiling with thick bars of gold. There had to be hundreds and hundreds of rows of gold. It reminded Earl of something he would see in an old-time bank-robber movie. The bars of gold looked relatively small – about the size of a brick – but when he picked one up, Earl found them to be very heavy. If he'd really wanted to rob the place, it would have taken him hours to do, since he could probably only carry one or two bricks at a time.
It's tempting
, Earl thought.
But I'm no robber.
He put the golden brick back on the pile and walked out of the vault, closing the metal door behind him in case anybody else had the bright idea to rob the joint. When he made his way back to the open cash-drawer, he could not stop from helping himself to a few bills, especially since he'd been so honest by leaving the gold alone.
With a pocket full of hundred-dollar bills, Earl walked out of the bank, ready to devour his waiting hot dog. He thought that nothing would be able to take his mind away from food. That was until he saw how dark the sky had become.
It’s the middle of the day when I went inside the bank and I was only inside for a few minutes. How could it have gotten dark so quickly?
He looked up towards the sun and thought he figured it out. Something was blocking the sun and Earl immediately recognized it as an eclipse. Eclipses were rare, but he had seen enough of them in his lifetime to recognize what was happening.
Is that why nobody is around? Are they afraid of an eclipse? They only last a few minutes and don't harm anybody.
This eclipse lasted longer than a few minutes, though, and Earl eventually wondered whether his original assessment had been correct. He looked back up toward the sun and saw that the object blocking it was apparently glowing a dull orange. The object in the sky also appeared to be growing larger with every passing moment.
Oh no, this can't be. This wasn't supposed to happen for another 10 years. How did everybody else know about this but me?
Although he knew it was completely worthless to do so, Earl ran. He ran as fast as he could, his short legs running furiously, his arms pumping frenziedly. Earl closed his eyes and tried to just concentrate on running, praying that a miracle would happen and he would outrun the speeding comet. It felt like he’d been running for hours, yet when he opened his eyes, Earl saw he was still in the exact same place as before.
And now the comet was barreling out of the sky, moments away from crushing him like an insect. There was nothing left to do but wait for the inevitable.
When the comet was only a few feet above the ground, Earl felt the intense heat of the fiery ball of rock. He wasn't sure if the heat or the comet would kill him first. He quickly got his answer.
BOOM.
Darkness.
This is what death is like? It doesn't really seem all that bad. Kind of comfortable actually, just like my couch.