University Boulevard had been a four-lane highway connected to numerous side roads and residential communities. One lane had been partially cleared by an army of civilian bulldozers and military and a few emergency vehicles now picked their way down that single cleared lane. The suburbs on either side had been smashed, as if from a strong wind, and as they proceeded eastward it got worse until they entered an area that had been wiped clean of all vegetation except some burned stubby grasses and was devoid of anything but foundations. Bill shook his head as he mentally counted up the human life that had been erased in a bare moment. Families, children, dogs, cats, fish, birds in the trees, the trees themselves, gone. It was shocking and horrifying and, after a while, so overwhelming that his mind just tuned it out.
“I’m glad our company got detailed to secure the site,” Garcia said, noticing his glances at the devastation.
“Why?”
“The other companies around have been pulled in for search and rescue.”
Crichton had finally gotten a chance to take off his protective gear and grab some food. Battalion had gone to the Dominos Pizza on Kirkman Road, one of the largest in the nation, and gotten pizza for Charlie Company at materials cost from the owner. By the time Crichton got a slice all that was left was all the way and it was cold. But it was food and he realized as he bit into the slice that it was the first food he’d had since a chicken biscuit for breakfast. He’d found a bit of rubble, the foundation for one of the university buildings, and was contemplating the activity around the hole when a small voice said: “Excuse me.”
He turned around and, right at the edge of the light from the kliegs, a small child, a girl by her clothing and hair, was standing watching him. In her arms was what looked like a stuffed animal, probably some sort of “monster” animal. At least it looked stuffed until it climbed up her clothes and perched on her shoulder.
“Hello,” he said as calmly as he could. “Where did you come from?”
“Home,” the girl said. “I’m hungry.”
“What’s your name little girl?”
“Mimi Jones, 12138 Mendel Road, Orlando, Florida, 32826.”
“Are you lost?” he asked. He wondered where Mendel Road was and wondered who was going to hook this girl up with her parents, assuming they were alive. She seemed uninjured, so there was no way that she had been in the explosion. But there wasn’t anything standing for a kilometer around the explosion. If she had come from outside the explosion area, then she’d walked a long way.
“Yes,” she said. “I couldn’t find my house or my mommy. And Mommy said I shouldn’t talk to strangers but she said that soldiers were okay one time when we were at the mall.”
“Well, there’s a policeman here,” Crichton said, standing up. “He’ll probably be able to find your mommy. And we’ll get you something to eat. Come on.”
He wanted to ask what that thing on her shoulder was but he thought it might be a good idea to wait until he got her into the light and got a better look at it. It might be one of those robotic toys that were turning up these days.
In the light the thing was no better. It was almost entirely fur except for some stubby and goofy-looking legs; there seemed to be about ten spaced equilaterally around its body. And it didn’t seem to be threatening anything, just sitting on her shoulder.
A command truck had been parked at the edge of the light zone and he led the girl over to the group that was standing around at the back. Weaver was there and the SEAL commander along with a sergeant from Orange County Sheriff’s that had been sent over as a liaison. There was also a woman he hadn’t seen before, a tall brunette, just on the far side of chunky, with long brown hair. She was dressed in jeans and a flannel work shirt.
“Hi,” he said when he got to the group. “This little girl just wandered up to me. I think she’s from in the TD area. She says her name is Mimi.”
“Hello, Mimi,” the woman said, squatting down in front of the girl. “I’m Dr. McBain. I’m not a doctor like you probably know, I’m what’s called a biologist. I study plants and animals. This is Dr. Weaver, he studies stars and stuff. What’s your name? Do you know your address?”
“Mimi Jones, 12138 Mendel Road, Orlando, Florida, 32826,” the girl recited again.
“And what’s that on your shoulder?” McBain asked, eyeing it warily.
“That’s my friend,” Mimi said, patting the thing. “His name is Tuffy.”
“Do you know where your mommy is?” the biologist said.
“No, I was watching Power Puff girls and then I woke up in the dark. I was scared but Tuffy told me it would be okay and then I walked to the lights. I’m hungry.”
“Tuffy told you?” Weaver said, squatting down by her also.
“Kinda,” the girl said and giggled. “He doesn’t talk, he doesn’t have a mouth like us. But I know what he means. I was really scared but he made me be brave and told me to go to the lights and get some food. I’m hungry.”
“We’re out of pizza,” Weaver said, waving at the SEAL officer. “Would you like some nice MREs?”
“I dunno,” the girl admitted. “I don’t like peas, though.”
“No peas,” Weaver said as the SEAL, shaking his head, went to get some MREs.
“Dr. Weaver,” the cop said, coming over and squatting down with the others. “That’s got to be impossible.”
“What do you mean?”
“Were you at home, Mimi?” the deputy asked, softly. “When you fell asleep that is?”
“Yes,” Mimi said.
“That’s impossible,” the cop repeated. “Mendel is about three blocks from here.”
“Did you have a basement, Mimi?” Weaver asked. “Were you in the basement?”
“No,” she answered. “We had an apartment. On the second floor. I used to throw water balloons at Manuel downstairs until Mommy found out what I was doing with them and made me stop.”
“That’s really impossible,” the cop said. “Where were you, really, Mimi?”
Weaver didn’t have children but he did know that they would make things up. However, there was no logic to Mimi lying and he felt she wasn’t.
“I don’t think she’s lying, Sergeant,” he said, quietly. “And do me a favor, don’t bully her on it. I don’t want her, or that thing, agitated.”
“She can’t have come from Mendel, Dr. Weaver,” the deputy protested. “It’s gone.”
“Quod erat demonstratum,” the physicist answered. “That which is demonstrated. Where did she come from, then? Everything for a half a mile in every direction is gone. She’s six; there’s only so far she could have walked. Ergo, she came from somewhere she could not have and Mendel is only one of many equally implausible possibilities.”
“So how did she survive?” the cop asked, angrily.
“I don’t know,” Weaver said, honestly.
“Some sort of toroidal effect?” McBain asked.
“Nope,” the physicist answered. “If there was a minimal effect toroid, and it doesn’t look like there was, it still would have taken out an upstairs apartment. And she wouldn’t be unscratched. Look, none of this is making sense according to standard theory so I’d have to go out on a limb and say that another gate opened and she fell in it as the blast front came across. Problem being even if it opened under her she wouldn’t have had time to fall.”
“Opened up on her?” the woman asked. “Then she fell out after the blast had passed?”
“Maybe,” Weaver shrugged. “Or maybe Tuffy saved her.”
“That’s what happened,” Mimi said, stoutly. “Tuffy told me he saved me.”