CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Don’t worry about the world coming to an end today. It’s already tomorrow in Australia.” Charles Schultz “What do you mean there is a dark side?” “Let’s take a pit stop first,” Walker said as he flipped on the turn signal and the Bronco began to slow down. They reached the end of the exit ramp and turned left toward an open Shell Mini-mart. “Besides, I need to make a phone call.” “I thought we couldn’t use the phone?” “I can use it all I want. You, on the other hand, can’t call Th e Washington Post, or any of your friends and family, since I know their lines are being monitored.” “How do you know that?” Walker just smiled and winked. “Sorry,” Penelope answered with a sigh. “What was I thinking?” Walker pulled into the pumps so that only the front license plate, which had a Confederate flag on it, was visible to the station’s video cameras. Walker filled up the Bronco’s tank while Penelope freshened up. He paid cash for the gas, bought a prepaid phone card, and was standing at the pay phone in front of the building chatting with someone when Penelope joined him. Anticipating her question, Walker put his hand over the mouthpiece and whispered, “Senator Horn has stabilized but the next few hours will 156 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin tell the tale.” Penelope nodded that she understood as Walker turned his full attention back to the person he was talking to on the phone. “Yes. She’s standing right next to me… she got in the car around 12:30.” Walker laughed. It was that deep, full-bodied laugh which caused all within earshot to smile, and that Penelope had grown to want to hear more often. “You guys never learn.” Walker covered the mouthpiece and spoke to Penelope. “Mark Hatchet has your article for tomorrow. We want to send him a heads up that he will be getting a visit from Homeland Security in the morning, and let him know you’re okay. Is there some kind of code word or something we can use to let him know it’s from you?” He held the phone in her direction. Penelope thought for a moment. “Yeah. Tell him it’s from Nellie 2204. Oh, and ask him to call Joey and tell her I’m okay.” Walker nodded. “Got that?” Penelope could make out a man’s voice confirming he had heard her correctly. “Great.” Walker hung up the phone and motioned toward the Bronco. “As I suspected, the order to bug your house came directly from Noah Shepherd without notifying Robert Smith.” “What does that mean?” “That means we need to get you to the compound as quickly as possible because Shepherd is upping the stakes.” “Should I be worried?” “No. But if you do get caught somehow, offer no resistance of any kind and don’t say a word until your attorney arrives.” “What are the odds I’ll get caught?” “Unless something happens at the airport, almost zero.” “Airport? Do you have a plane stashed somewhere?” “Yes. At the Delta terminal in Cincinnati.” “Isn’t that a pretty big risk, flying on public transportation? What if we get seen?” “Trust me,” Walker answered with a smile. “What are you planning?” Penelope demanded. Walker continued to smile and shrugged. “I give up,” Penelope said with exasperation in her voice. “How am I supposed to get on an airplane without any identifi cation?” “It will be waiting for us in Cincinnati.” “I smell like a wet goat. And, I’m not sure I want to be seen on a plane with you and that shirt.” 157 The Fourth Awakening “We’ll both get a chance to change before we go.” “Okay.” Once Walker and Penelope were safely back on the interstate, she had to ask. “What were you laughing at?” He laughed again. “Stu won the pool. You would think they would learn.” “What pool?” “Some of the people at the compound had a pool on the date and time you would decide to come with me, and a guy named Stu Levy won.” “You had a betting pool on when I would come?” Steam started building under Penelope’s collar. “Yes,” Walker said cheerfully as he focused his attention on a slow moving 18 wheeler that had them pinned in the right lane. “We started it up a couple of months ago. Stu not only had today, he had been getting 20-1 that it would be between noon and one. Everyone thought he was nuts…” “You and your merry band of New Age freaks were betting on me?” It finally dawned on Walker that Penelope didn’t seem to be enjoying the joke as much as he was. “I never personally get involved, but it’s perfectly harmless; they do it all the time. It’s good practice, really.” “Oh, really? So why was this Stu guy winning so funny?” Walker’s voice got smaller and his eyes focused harder on the road. “Why would you bet with a guy that is possibly the most gift ed psychic in the world?” “Hmm.” Penelope folded her arms across her chest and they rode in silence. After about ten miles, she had to admit that was pretty amusing. After twenty, she had trouble keeping the smile off her face. “So how good a psychic is this Levy character?” “He went to the Bellagio once and called fi fteen out of twenty turns of the roulette wheel correctly.” “The casinos must hate to see him coming.” “No, he doesn’t gamble.” “Really? With that kind of skill?” “Stu is a bit, how should I put this, diff erent.” “Pots and kettles calling each other names again?” It took Walker a moment to get the joke. “Noooo. You’ll just have to meet him.” 158 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin “And when will that be?” “Unless we run into a problem, we should be at compound by this time tomorrow.” “Where exactly is the compound?” “I can’t tell you that yet. There is still a chance you might get caught.” “Fair enough…” she said, as she covered her mouth with her hand to catch a yawn. “So tell me about the dark side of these awakenings.” “Whenever there are dramatic changes there are winners and losers. Often the group that prospered in a previous Awakening becomes less important or in some cases completely obsolete as the new one unfolds.” “Let me guess,” Penelope said as she stretched and flexed in a vain attempt to find a more comfortable spot in the lumpy bucket seat. “Th ey do not go gentle into that good night.” “That’s putting it mildly. The entire history of mankind is littered with the victims of war and suppression by groups unable to change with the times but also unwilling to give up their perks.” “I’m guessing here,” Penelope said with a laugh, “that Cro-Magnons, Kings and Popes don’t think too highly of these Awakenings.” “Exactly,” Walker answered. “The real danger today, thanks to modern science, is that the carnage could be massive.” “So you’re expecting a protracted period of wars because of this Awakening?” “No, quite the opposite. The change will be over much more quickly this time.” “I don’t understand.” “The people today who have the most to lose also have most of the weapons, and have shown a willingness to use them. In the fi rst three Awakenings the killing was pretty much done on a one-on-one basis. Modern weapons don’t have that limitation.” “What are you saying?” “Today, someone can push a button and an hour later more people are dead than died in World War II. Unless we can make as many people as possible aware of this someone, somewhere is going to do something desperate to try and stop this Awakening.” “You’re serious?” “That’s why we wanted you. You’ve already started Awakening but you still have your skepticism. You were the perfect choice. You’ll be able to 159 The Fourth Awakening explain it very effectively since you’re going through it yourself.” “Why is it whenever I start talking to you I feel like my head is about to explode?” “Raw animal magnetism?” Walker off ered. Penelope ignored Walker’s answer and shifted as far as her seat belt would allow as she tried to face him. “What do you think will happen?” “Unless we can get in front of this Awakening and let the world know what is going on, I don’t see those in power taking any options off the table.” “You actually think a government would launch weapons of mass destruction to stop an Awakening? You can’t be serious.” “They’re not the ones I’m worried about. Most major governments with these kinds of weapons have all sorts of checks and balances built in. My biggest concern is that a fringe group that cuts across cultural and political borders will emerge and somehow gain access to them.” “What kind of group?” “I don’t know. They haven’t shown themselves yet. But let’s hope they aren’t willing to kill for their beliefs,” Walker hesitated. “Or worse, die for them.” “What are the odds of this happening?” “A lot of that will depend on you.” “Me?” “Yes. The more people we make aware of the Awakening the better.” “What if that is not enough?” “Then millions of people could die.” “What?” “Suppose a war breaks out between two high population nuclear powers such as Pakistan and India, then spreads to China? Even the countries that are not involved will feel the environmental and economic damage for decades…” “Pull the car over.” Penelope demand. “What? Why?” “Pull the damn car over NOW!” Walker steered the Bronco onto the berm of the Interstate but left the engine idling. “Look at me,” Spence demanded, her eyes blazing. A bemused smile was on Walker’s face as he turned to face her. “Are you telling me you think 160 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin this story I’m suppose to write for you could save millions of lives?!” “Possible billions,” Walker answered calmly. Penelope’s mouth moved but no words came out. Walker leaned back against the car door, propped his elbow on the steering wheel and rested his chin on the palm of his hand. “Why do you think we went to all of this trouble to get you here if it wasn’t this important?” “How dare you!” Penelope demanded. “Who do you think you are trying to hang something like that on me?” Penelope folded her arms across her chest and continued to fume. “If I don’t believe your silly little fairy tale a billion people will die. How dare you!” Walker chuckled and shook his head. “That isn’t what I meant at all. All I’m saying is if we can make people aware of the Awakening we can potentially save lives. Whether you tell the story or we find another way to get it out really doesn’t matter to us. We just need to get the story out.” Penelope started to run her fingers through her hair until she realized she was still wearing Joey’s blonde wig. She jerked it off and tossed it at her feet. “You’re still going to need that,” Walker said as he pointed to the hair piece. “Shut up!” Penelope turned and faced the front of the Bronco. “You’re tired and I’ve hit you with…” “You can drop me off at the next exit.” “You don’t mean that,” Walker answered. “Why not?” “First and foremost you are an old school pro and a world class reporter. You’re not going to walk away from a story this big just because some maniac you’ve been humoring for the past few days said something that you didn’t like. Especially not now since you’re sitting on the biggest exclusive of the decade. It’s not in your nature.” “I don’t like being manipulated.” “Who’s manipulating you?” Walker asked with a laugh. “I didn’t even ask to read your stories before you sent them off. I don’t care what you write as long as you spell my name right.” Penelope glared at Walker. “Hate me, love me; believe me or not. Just get the story out there where as many people as possible can see it. That’s all we want from you.” Penelope leaned back in her seat and contemplated what Walker had 161 The Fourth Awakening just said. He was right; this was too big of a story to simply walk away from over a flip comment that she might have simply brushed off as hyperbole if she wasn’t so tired. Walker had said so many unbelievable things, why should she suddenly take him at his word over this? The initial jolt of adrenalin from his verbal hand grenade was starting to wear off and be replaced with a marrow deep fatigue. Penelope felt the knot returning to her stomach and wasn’t sure if it was being caused by too much dinner or the day’s conversation with Walker. She rubbed her forehead. A headache was starting to build as well. Penelope had never been this tired in her life. Her eyes fl uttered closed and she had to force them to reopen. After a few minutes of silence, Penelope felt her irritation toward Walker melting away. He had made it clear from the moment they’d met that he had picked her to write this story and made no effort to minimize its importance. He had promised her that she would be the most sought after reporter in the world and, boy, had he delivered. For the moment she was willing to overlook the fact that many of the people seeking her had badges and arrest warrants with her name on them. So far he had done everything he said he would do and to the best of her knowledge he had never lied to her. Plus, he had picked her. In some weird way she almost felt complimented. The Bronco continued to idle on the side of Interstate and Walker didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with meaningless chitchat; another point in his favor. A car whizzed past and as the headlight fi lled the interior of the SUV, Penelope could see Michael Walker’s eyes were fi xed on her. They twinkled with mirth. Finally, Penelope softly asked, “The Fourth Awakening has already started hasn’t it?” “Yes, but we can’t be sure this isn’t just another false start.” “False start?” “It very nearly happened once before.” “Let me guess,” Penelope said as she tried to swallow a yawn but wasn’t quite up to the challenge. “The Sumerians found Pandora’s Box and let the cat out?” “A little more recent than that. During your lifetime, actually.” “My lifetime?” “Yes.” 162 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin “I didn’t notice?” Penelope was incredulous. She folded her arms across her chest as she glared at Walker. “I can’t wait to hear this one.” “In the early 1960s …” “Early sixties! How old do you think I am?” Walker shot her a glance that showed her how futile that gambit was. She threw her hands up in mock surrender. “Shall I continue?” “Please. And can we stick to the who, what, when, where, why, format this time?” “Who, Timothy Leary. What, LSD. When, 1960s. Where, the United States. And why, because Americans like so many before them wanted enlightenment in an easy to take pill, and came very close to fi nding one.” Walker shifted in his seat, slapped the Bronco into gear and pulled back onto the nearly deserted Interstate highway. “But that can wait for another day.” “So you’re not going to tell me the Timothy Leary story?” “Not tonight. You’ve already had so much to absorb in such a short period of time, it would probably be counter-productive. You should try to get some rest.” Penelope wanted to protest but realized Walker was right. Reaching in the dark for the pillow between her feet she found Joey’s wig instead. With a sigh she put it back on. Retrieving the pillow, she tucked it between her shoulder and the window and stared out into the dark West Virginia countryside speeding by. Overpowering her fatigue, doubts began to creep in keeping her from sleep. Had she pushed back too hard? Had she said something wrong? “Look,” she finally said. “I can be really diffi cult sometimes…” “Pigheaded.” “Steadfast.” They both laughed. He stopped her by placing a hand on her shoulder. “You have absolutely nothing to apologize over. I am so grateful you’ve decided to help us, I really can’t express it in words. Get some rest. If what you have seen in the last few days has your head spinning, wait until tomorrow.” “What happens tomorrow?” “You’re going to get to meet Dr. Carl Altman and see the Hermes Project in action.” Just before she drift ed off to sleep, she asked, “How did you know that 163 The Fourth Awakening Homeland Security was going to visit the Post in the morning?” “We have an old friend at Homeland Security.” “You have a spy inside of Homeland Security?” “Yes.” Normally that type of bombshell would cause her to leave Tired Town and kick her mind into overdrive. For now, she had so many remarkable and terrifying things to consider, it didn’t even make her top ten list. People being able to project themselves to another place merely by thinking about it. The destruction of her home. Senator Horn’s stroke. Assaulting a federal officer. Risotto. Timothy Leary… With Walker’s hand on her shoulder and the whine of the highway in her ears, her eyes closed and she fell fast asleep. . MMark Hatchet, as usual, was still at his desk. He took a sip from his coffee mug, but the contents were cold and had turned bitter. He reached for the pot on the burner behind his desk and topped off with a brew dark enough and thick enough to seal the cracks in a blacktop driveway. He’d had worse. The Monday edition had been completed and sent to the pressmen, and the City Edition would be hitting the streets in a few minutes. Mark smiled as he wondered, thanks to Penelope, how many congressional interns were standing on dark corners waiting for copies of the paper to hand deliver to their bosses. Aft er tonight, even if Nellie didn’t send him another word, she was a lock for her second Pulitzer. The last story to hit Washington with this much impact was Iran-Contra. If she also broke the Hermes Project… Hatchet shook his head. She would be the biggest name in American newspapers since Ben Franklin. The lead stories were, of course, the two that Nellie had sent him. Th e only other story on the front page was an article about the condition of Senator Clayton Horn, with several sidebars on his impressive legislative and personal life history. To everyone’s amazement, not only had the senator’s condition stabilized, he was doing remarkably well for a man of his age. It appeared he would lose some function on his right side and his speech was definitely impaired, but how badly was yet to be determined. A man dressed in a blue and red courier’s jacket tapped on the door and looked at the name on the envelope in his hand. “Mark Hatchet?” Th e 164 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin managing editor nodded and the man handed him the envelope. When it was clear that no tip was forthcoming, he turned and headed toward the elevators. Using a letter opener, Hatchet sliced the envelope open and pulled out a single sheet of paper. There was a handwritten note: Expect a visit tomorrow fr om Director Noah Shepherd, Assistant Director Robert A. Smith and Special Agent Marcus J. Wolfe of the Emerging Technologies Division. I’m with you know who. I should be at the Hermes Project late tomorrow. I’m fine. Call Joey. Leave Wednesday’s front page open for me and my interview with Dr. Carl Altman and Michael Walker. Nellie 2204 Hatchet slapped the piece of paper with the back of his hand and smiled from ear to ear. “That’s my girl.” He knew it had to be from her; who else would have known the number of his dorm room in college? Hatchet pushed a button on his phone that rang at the desk of his executive assistant, who was in the process of putting on her coat. Th ey made eye contact through the glass. “I need to set up a meeting with the publisher and legal.” “For when?” “Within the hour, if possible.” She tossed her coat aside and motioned for an intern to get her another cup of coffee, indicating that a fresh pot was also needed in Hatchet’s office. It was going to be one of those nights. Hatchet was already dialing research. “Call in extra staff if you need it but in the next 30 minutes I want a preliminary bio, and then I want everything you’ve got or can find by 6 a.m. on the following people, Dr. Carl Altman, Director Noah Shepherd…”