Independence Day: Silent Zone (22 page)

"Possibly,"
Dworkin mused, "but I'm not convinced people would band together. I
think
it more likely that society would disintegrate. The way you reacted to
learning
about the ship and seeing the alien bodies was far from typical. When
people
really begin to believe we are facing annihilation, as Wells does, they
tend to
withdraw into themselves. I can imagine groups of frightened people
abandoning
their normal lives and retreating deeper into private misery, or
forming
private armies and taking to the hills. But that's all speculation," he
said, finishing off his glass of water, "and it begs the question,
because
people are not going to be told. Even if one of us succeeded in putting
ourselves on the evening news and telling the whole thing, no one would
believe
us. You know what happened at Roswell. They're quite skilled at making
intelligent persons seem crazy."

"So
what's
the answer? Just continue going through
the motions down here?"

Dworkin
stared into his empty glass for a few moments. "I've spent most of my
adult life in these rooms, and I'm not sure I have anything to show for
it. I
was married, you know."

"No,
I didn't know that. Any kids?"

"No,
thank heavens. But if there had been, I still would have left them. Dr.
Wells
and I had our differences over the years, but we always agreed the
work being
done here was important enough to justify our personal sacrifices. The
work has
been everything, and now I'm afraid it's over."

Okun
knew
what he must be talking about. "Because you're getting too old?"

"Precisely.
It's been a few years since we've lost anyone, and I've allowed myself
to
forget what it feels like. If he sends Dr. Freiling away, we'll be
reduced to
four. Soon we'll all be gone, and I worry about what will happen then.
I don't
know if you are prepared to carry on here by yourself."

They
let
that idea hover in the air for a while. Brackish considered the
possibility of
following in Dworkin's footsteps, trading in all his possible futures
for the
lonely life of a lab rat. He thought briefly of Brinelle, her gangly
limbs and
wide smile. He knew he'd probably never see her again, but for the
moment he
let her represent everyone he might meet. Did keeping the labs open
mean he
would never again have a crush on a girl? Or decide at the last minute
to go
catch a movie with some friends?

"If these
creatures ever did turn hostile," Dworkin pointed out, "you may be
the only person in the world who could have us prepared. So far your
sponsors
in Washington, whoever they are,
have
denied you nothing. It might be time to petition them for some new
personnel. I
doubt whether we old fellows are going to be around here much longer."

Okun
waved
him off. "It's nothing we have to decide tonight. I've still got three
years on my contract, and you four guys are going to outlive me by a
decade.
Now, come on, you should try to get some sleep."

"You're
right." He sighed. "I'm feeling awfully tired."

In
the
morning, Dworkin didn't join them at breakfast. When they went in to
check on
him, they discovered he'd died in his sleep. One day after learning
that
Freiling's neck was on the chopping block, they had lost their leader.
While
Cibatutto got on the phone and began making burial arrangements, the
others
retreated to their rooms and their personal despair.

"Six down and three
to go," Lenel whispered as the minister delivered a brief eulogy over
the
body. The ceremony was the same one given to the men who had died
before Okun
arrived. It was all part of a package plan offered to them through
their bank.
Parducci Mortuary offered embalming, makeup, coffin, a catered
open-casket
viewing period, transportation to the cemetery, flowers, and interment
services
all for one low price. The only thing not included was a police escort
to the
cemetery. The Parducci family was not friendly with the police. When
the
minister was finished, he announced there
would be a few minutes for those assembled to wish Dr. Dworkin their
final
farewells. There were more people in attendance than Okun had expected.
Two of
Dworkin's sisters were there and brought their families with them.
There were
four or five scientists who had worked with him earlier in his career,
Ellsworth, accompanied by two other officers, and Dr. Insolo of the
Science and
Technology Directorate. Everyone formed a line and filed past the open
casket,
pausing to say a few words or lay a flower on Dworkin's chest. When
Okun
approached the pine box, he hardly recognized the figure inside. The
cheeks
were too rosy and the hair was fluffed up in a way Dworkin had never
worn it.
When someone behind him uttered the word "lifelike," Brackish felt
his heart drop halfway to his knees and quickly headed outside to get
some air.

He
dumped himself onto a bench next to the chauffeur of the hearse, who
was reading a newspaper. "How's it going in there?"

"Tough.
Very tough." Okun's voice broke.

"Were
you related?"

"Kinda."

The man nodded as if he knew what
that meant. The two of them sat there
for a few minutes watching the traffic on the street until the driver
returned
to his reading. Okun was thinking about what Dworkin had said about not
knowing
if he was prepared to continue the work. He felt a sudden urge to run
away, to
disappear into the city and hide, to start a normal life like the one
the man
next to him had. He turned to ask a question, but something
caught his eye before he
could. A headline on the
newspaper read "Chihuahua Quake Darkens Parts of Texas" and then in
smaller print, "Electromagnetic Mystery Hampers Construction
Efforts." He leaned in closer and started reading the story off the
back
of the man's paper. The farther down the page he read, the more he
nodded. At
the end of the column, it said "continued on A6."

Under
the
watchful gaze of a security agent posted in the parking lot, Brackish
went to
the van and retrieved his journal notebook. He quickly looked over the
notes
he'd made after his conversation with Wells. 'This is it, this is the
real
enchilada," he said to himself. He strode back to the ceremony. As he
passed the chauffeur he snagged the paper out of the surprised man's
hands and
carried it inside.

The
three
older scientists were gathered around the open casket, solemnly
conversing with
their deceased friend. Okun joined them, thwacking down the newspaper
on the
coffin so he could straighten it out. "You guys," he said in an
excited whisper, "I found it. It's in Mexico."

Bad
manners were one thing, but this was flagrant boorishness.

"Brackish,
this is neither the time nor the place," Freiling pointed out.

"He's
right," Cibatutto growled. "For Sam's sake."

Okun
looked them in the eyes. "Sam told me that he always sacrificed his
personal happiness for the sake of the work, and I'm sure he'd want me
to read
you what's in this article right this second."

Somewhat
reluctantly, they made room for him and
he
stepped up to his place at the head of the coffin, where he kept the
paper low
and read in a whisper.

"Get
to the point."

He
skipped
down the column.

As
Okun
turned to page A6, he glanced up long enough to see that the scientists
realized he was onto something. Any lingering doubts any of them might
have had
were erased forever when Okun turned the page. There was a small photo
of
construction crews working on the downed power lines. A long line of
giant
power poles stretched away into the distance, each one of them shaped
like a
giant Y.

As
far as
Okun was concerned, there was no need to read any further. He looked
around at
his fellow scientists with a look that said,
You know what we
have to do
now.

The four men stepped
outside and Okun ran through his theory on how the whole thing worked.
"OK. We were right. There was another ship flying with the one at
Roswell.
They were scouting around or whatever when the missile was fired from
Polynesia. The blur that moved across the radar screens before the
rocket
exploded must have been yet another ship. Maybe that ship was hit, or
sent out
a retreat signal or perhaps—I haven't figured that part out yet. But we
do know
the Roswell ship took off north and another ship flew south. The Army
thought
it crashed near Guerrero, and they invaded Mexico looking for it, but
they were
too far south. The Y must have been a signal from the downed ship."

"Then
why didn't that third ship on the radar screen come and pick them up?"
Freiling asked, starting to get it.

"The
wires overhead?" Lenel ventured. "Maybe the field of EM waves blocked
their signal."

Four
heads
nodded.

"But
that means," Cibatutto pointed out, "during their next visit, if the
aliens visit again anytime soon, they will be able to receive the
signal. It's
probably still being sent if we picked it up last year.

"When's
the next time we'll get a window of Van Allen activity?"

Cibatutto
pulled out a pen and did a few calculations on the newspaper. "
Mamma mia. Dio de cane!
"

"Translation,
please."

"Three
days. The inner belt's energy peaks in three days."

Okun, unconsciously
fingering the ankh-shaped
figurine on his
necklace, looked around the group. Trying his best to sound like
Dworkin, he
said, "Gentlemen, we find ourselves in a rather dramatic predicament.
If
we return to Area 51 after the funeral, we have little or no hope of
finding
the second ship before our alien visitors do."

With
the
ceremony over and Dworkin's coffin loaded in the hearse, people began
getting
into cars for the trip to the cemetery. Radecker walked to the front of
the
line of parked cars, expecting to ride in the hearse. "Have some
decency,
man," Lenel snarled at him when he touched the door handle. "You
helped put the man in his grave. Let him take this final ride in
dignity with
his friends."

The
two
men traded icy stares until Radecker went farther back and climbed into
the
van. Lenel opened the passenger side door and wondered how he was going
to get
inside the vehicle. Okun, Freiling, and Cibatutto were already
scrunched in
tight next to the driver.

"No,
absolutely not," the chauffeur said. "We can't have anyone else ride
in here. I'll get a ticket." But the scientists, some of the Strip's
most
experienced con men, could be very persuasive. The driver quickly
changed his
mind and signaled for Lenel to climb in. With some difficulty, he
climbed onto
Okun's lap, and the procession pulled out of the driveway and headed
south
along famous Las Vegas Boulevard. Before they'd gotten to the first
stoplight,
Freiling began chattering about the door.

"Did
anybody cheek the back door? It wasn't closed all the way. When we get
to the
next light I'm going to get out and check it. The last thing we need is
for
poor old Sam Dworkin to roll out the back door and spill all over the
Strip."

"Don't
worry, sir, the door is closed."

"You're
awfully kind to say so, and I know you mean well," Freiling doddered,
"and I'm sure you're very good at your job, but at the next light, I'll
just step out quickly and check."

It
only
took three stoplights for Freiling to annoy the man so thoroughly that
he
screamed, "All right already, I'll check the darn door." He got out
and stormed to the rear of the hearse, opened the door, and yelled to
the
passengers in the front seat, "Like I said, the door was closed. Now I
am
going to close the door again and make sure it is securely sealed."

But
before
he could execute his plan, Freiling had slid himself into the driver's
seat and
stomped down on the accelerator pedal. The tires screamed as the
vehicle peeled
out into the cross traffic moving through the intersection. The sudden
momentum
caused the coffin to slide out the back and crash, right side up, onto
the
roadway. Thanks to blind luck and the quick reactions of several
drivers, the
hearse bolted through the intersection untouched.