Kestrel helicopter from its hangar onto the helipad on the western side of the White Mansion. This version of Marine One carried only the identification number ‘AA3’ just aft of the cockpit. Small blue lamps outlined the helipad’s edges. A wind had picked up from the northwest bringing an acidic smell of poisoned rain. The clouds had thickened to blot out the last of the sun’s rays, and the light was cut to a dim, grayish cast.
The passengers were already aboard. Along with President Beale and Vance Derryman were Foggy Winslett, Ethan, Dave, Olivia, and sitting at the back of the cabin two uniformed and helmeted Marines armed with 9mm Colt submachine guns, frag grenades and automatic pistols. The seats were beige-colored fabric and there were two sofas along the left wall the same color and fabric. The windows were covered with dark blue curtains. Light strips glowed along the ceiling, and there was a small table with a lamp on it. The lampshade, Ethan noted, still wore its plastic dust cover. Dignifying the President’s armchair was the Presidential seal. Soon there came the low growl of the three turboshaft engines warming up. The noise grew in power. None of the passengers spoke; this was going to be a trip that tested the nerves, and no one felt like talking. The two Marines had volunteered for the assignment and the pilots, Garrett and Neilsen, had flown Super Stallion transport ’copters from aircraft carriers off Iraq. Everyone knew their job and was professional, though it had been so long since the pilots had been up, they welcomed some time in the simulator.
Dave pulled a curtain aside for a look out. Beyond the window was a bleak and threatening sky, but the light show of battling warships had ceased. Either their combat had ended in the defeat of one side, or the fight had whirled on many miles distant.
Everyone was buckled in. Garrett’s voice came over the intercom: “We’re three minutes from liftoff, lady and gentlemen. Welcome aboard, it’s our privilege to serve.” To his credit, he sounded perfectly in control and perfectly at peace with the idea of flying Marine One into the teeth of the alien enemy.
The rotors started up. Their noise was muffled to a civilized rumble by the construction of the helicopter, made to allow the President to attend to business while in flight.
Though there was no conversation, Ethan could look at a person, give them his full attention, and ‘hear’ their thoughts like a voice in a dark room. Scanning the people here, he was nearly overwhelmed. What human emotion was not riding in this helicopter? He did the best thing he could; he leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and allowed everyone their privacy, and himself a chance to rest.
The Kestrel lifted smoothly off from its helipad and rose above the White Mansion. Keeping just below the clouds, it took a southeasterly turn and flew toward its destination at one hundred and seventy miles per hour.
H
Ethan, Dave, and Olivia had gone to the infirmary to visit Hannah and Nikki. Hannah was drugged and haggard. She looked ninety years old and as lost as an orphan child. She didn’t make much sense when she talked, but she lay in her bed and at least seemed to be listening when Olivia had told her where they were going.
“Will you be back?” Hannah had asked in a slow murmur, as if afraid a louder voice might bring a monster back from the dead. She grasped the other woman’s offered hand. “Say you’ll be back, Olivia. We can’t keep going without you.”
“We’ll be back,” Olivia promised. She herself was in need of more rest and another Valium or two, but she had, as Dave had once said to Jefferson, put her balls on. No matter what was ahead, she had to be there to see it, and she thought Vincent would have approved.
“Panther Ridge can’t hold on without you,” Hannah continued. She shivered as if struck by a thought like a bullet and her hand tightened on Olivia’s. “Where’s JayDee? I need to see JayDee.”
“He’s around somewhere,” Olivia said. “Not far.”
“You’re the leader,” Hannah told her. “You’ve always been the leader. You have to come back. You and Dave both. Is that Ethan there? My eyes are so screwed up.”
“It’s me,” Ethan said.
“I saw you…when you ran into that parking lot. The high school. I saw what happened to the cars and the trucks.” She tried to focus on Olivia again. “They came alive,” she said, as if sharing the most awesome and terrible secret. “Dave said keep that quiet, so I did. Ethan?”
“Yes?”
“Protect them. They have to come back to Panther Ridge. All of you do.”
“I know he’ll do his best,” Olivia said. “You rest now, just try to sleep. Can we get anything for you before we go?”
“Time,” the old woman said weakly. “More time.” She was already drifting away from them, into what Olivia hoped was the safety of her dreams. They stayed with her until her hand fell away from Olivia’s, the drugs took her down again, and for at least a little while she had left this embattled world.
“I have to see Nikki,” Ethan said. “I’ll be along in a few minutes.”
He found her in a bed in another room where the walls were painted pale green and there were framed prints of flowers. She had a table and a lamp beside her. She was sitting up against two pillows, there was a plastic cup of orange juice on the table and the remnants of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on a small blue plate. She’d been paging through an old copy of a magazine called Elle when Ethan looked into the room.
“Hi,” he said, in his closest emulation of a fifteen-year-old boy’s tone of voice. “Can I come in?”
Her single chocolate-colored eye stared at him. The star of her eyepatch glittered under the overhead light, which was powered by a technology a thousand times older than her. Some color had returned to her face, she had taken a shower and the waves of her blonde hair were clean and freshly brushed. The peacekeeper thought it was very good that she was drinking and eating and reading, though reading about the world that used to be and seeing the pretty pictures did nothing to lighten the sadness in her soul.
He knew she missed Ethan. She had come with him on this trip because she had trusted him, and he’d left her without a word of goodbye. It was not the boy’s fault, it was his own necessity, the way the plan had always been since the moment of his arrival. It was indeed not fair, it was indeed a cruelty, and though the peacekeeper’s intent was on the benefit of the Many he did have feeling for the emotions of the One.
He had existed a long time, longer than Nikki Stanwick could comprehend. He was nothing she could fully understand. But in all that time he had never faced a situation such as this, and he didn’t know what to say.
He could feel her deciding whether to invite him in or not, and he almost backed off and went away to spare her any more of him, but then she said, quietly, still uncertain but willing to give him a chance, “Sure.”
He went in.
“Nice room,” he said.
“It’s okay.”
“Got everything you need?”
“I guess.”
“Weird not to have windows.”
“Weird,” she said. “That’s funny, coming from you.”
“Yes…” He hesitated and tried that again: “Yeah, I know it is.”
“Don’t try to talk like him,” she said. “You’re not him. Don’t pretend.”
“Oh. Yes. Okay.” He nodded. “You’re right, I could never be him.”
“Did you come here for some reason?”
“I did. Dave, Olivia, and I are leaving here in a couple of hours. We’re going with President Beale in his helicopter to Area 51. Well…an area called S-4. It’s where research is done on alien artifacts.” He decided to simplify that. “Things taken from flying saucers that have crashed. I think—I hope—something may be there I can use.”
“You mean…like…a ray gun or something?”