End of Days (27 page)

“There is a fine line between genius and madness,” Sheppard acknowledged.

He thought about the various options that had flowed across his desk over the years. Everything from cryonics—freezing humans in suspended animation until conditions would allow them to be revived—to survivalist plans to burrow into the earth or under the ocean with enough supplies to exist until the surface could support life again.

“Am I to believe that you have created a circumstance in which human life might not only survive the initial impact, but also survive the results of that impact for a sufficient length of time to allow the planet to readjust and
return to habitable conditions before life re-emerges? Is that correct?” Sheppard asked.

“Yes,” Fitchett simply replied.

“And which option have you pursued?” Sheppard asked.

“A below-ground facility. But I’d much rather
show
you than tell
you,”
Fitchett said.

Sheppard smiled. It was a sad smile. “I guess at this time at least a possibility of survival is better than anything I can offer. I have nothing except information about the end.”

“The end,” Fitchett said, “but not necessarily
your
end.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am offering you the opportunity to join our project, to become one of those people who will survive.”

Sheppard heard the words and understood what he was being offered—his life. He took a deep breath. He needed to think—or at least to appear to be considering the offer—before he spoke.

“If you are correct and you have constructed a facility that could survive the impact and the years that follow, there is still no possible way for a man of my age to either live long enough to journey back to the surface or reproduce offspring that could repopulate the planet when that time arrives.”

“Neither
of us will live to see that day,” Fitchett agreed.

“Then humanity would be better served by offering our two spots to younger people, such as this boy, wouldn’t you say?”

“My dear professor, my offer to you is more than a misguided act of charity. You are a brilliant mathematician,
one whose talents can be harnessed to increase the likelihood of our project’s success. I want you to survive because your survival makes it more possible for
mankind
to survive.”

“But for me to live even another day after the inevitable deaths of nine billion people … deaths that are on my hands,” Sheppard said.

“Dr. Sheppard, your goal was to ensure the survival of mankind. I am offering you an important and ongoing role in that goal. Sacrificing yourself would be against the very principles and purpose to which you have dedicated your life.”

“But I can’t just walk away from the people I’ve worked with. It wouldn’t be fair to them or to—” He stopped and looked at Parker. “This is what you were trying to tell me. You knew all about this. That little place in Idaho you were telling me about … is this it?”

“Agent Parker has been offered a place,” Fitchett explained.

Parker nodded his head. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you.”

“How long has it been?” Sheppard asked. “How long have you been going behind my back?”

“Many years.”

“I just … I just can’t believe that you would betray the organization … that you would betray
me.”

“He betrayed nothing and nobody,” Fitchett said. “He has been operating under a higher set of directives. My actions have taken place with the implicit but covert assistance of many of those in your organization. You’ll be surprised by the number of your colleagues who have been
part of this operation. It’s a sign of overconfidence not to have a backup plan.”

“I just can’t believe that I knew nothing … nothing about any of this,” Sheppard sputtered.

“You were not
meant
to know anything about it,” Fitchett said. “It was best that your total focus be on the goal of destroying or deflecting that asteroid. And up to three months ago we all lived with that hope … no matter how faint. Even as I’ve worked the last seventeen years to create the plan if you
did
fail, I hoped that you would be successful.”

“So what now?” Sheppard asked.

“You return to your position. When the time is near, you and Agent Parker and a few others will be flown to our location.”

“I’m not sure I can accept this invitation,” Sheppard said.

“I understand your reluctance and will obviously accept whatever decision you make.” He paused. “Although there is one thing we
would
ask you to do.”

Sheppard looked at him questioningly.

“You are in control of numerous stores of materials—things that are no longer vital for your operation but are essential for our success. We need you to provide authorization to allow these supplies to be released. We, too, suffered from sabotage. Judgment Day damaged your facilities and operations and ours as well.”

“What materials do you require?”

“Agent Parker has all of the information and coordinates necessary. All we ask is that you sign off on the requests as they cross your desk. Will you do that?”

“I’ll sign,” he quickly replied.

“I’m very pleased, but I must admit I’m surprised that you aren’t asking more questions about the nature of the supplies and materials we need,” Fitchett said.

Sheppard shrugged. “Does it matter? Whatever it is that you need can’t help or hinder our agenda because we have none. I just know that I have no moral right to stand in the way of your plans.”

“Because you think we might be successful?”

“Because I do not know that you
won’t
be successful,” Sheppard said.

“Thank you.” Fitchett extended his hand and the two men shook.

“We’d better get back,” Parker said, “before anybody realizes you’re gone.”

“Then I guess this is goodbye, for now,” Fitchett said. He paused. “But, I hope, not forever.”

Sheppard turned and walked back to his vehicle. Parker slowly backed away, keeping an eye on his surroundings until he, too, got into the vehicle.

Billy and Fitchett walked back to their car, while Fitchett gave instructions to his security team to stand down.

As they drove away, Billy turned to Fitchett. “So does that mean we have the rocket fuel?”

“That means that he’ll
release
the fuel. Getting it to our facility might be even more difficult. How difficult, we’ll soon find out.”

“We’re ready to go in fifteen seconds. Cue the lights.”

The already bright lights became brighter, and Sheppard squinted slightly as his eyes adjusted. He could feel sweat dripping down the side of his face and quickly wiped it off with the sleeve of his jacket. He tried not to think about the fact that in a few seconds, he’d be live to an audience of billions of people. He tried especially not to think of the message he was about to deliver to them.

“And five … four … three.” The director held up two fingers, one finger, and pointed to signal that the cameras were rolling.

Sheppard froze for just a second, and then started to speak.

“Good evening. My name is Dr. Daniel Sheppard and I am the director of the International Aerospace Research Institute, the organization that was entrusted with the
responsibility for saving the planet from collision with an asteroid, a collision that would end human life.” He paused and took a breath. It was important to breathe. “After almost two decades of planning by the greatest minds of our planet, we initiated a plan to detonate an explosion to destroy or divert this asteroid. As you are all aware, this explosion took place on April 23 of this year.

“While I’m sure that we all hoped for an immediate answer as to the success of this mission, that answer was not forthcoming. The unprecedented nature of the threat, the complexity of the attempted solution, and the technology necessary to provide definite answers made this assessment difficult. And while we have been gathering this information, the vacuum has been filled with speculation, rumours, fears, and a great deal of misinformation and half-truths.”

Sheppard struggled over “half-truths” because much of what the world knew was actually correct—was, in fact, information leaked from the institute.

“I feel we now have enough data, and also a moral responsibility, to share our findings with you.”

He reached down and lifted the paper in front of him. He was now going to read, word for word, what was written there. He knew it was unspeakably important, maybe the most important thing ever written in human history, and he wanted to get it absolutely right.

“While the mission to destroy the asteroid was technically a triumph and resulted in more than 60 percent of the mass of the asteroid being diverted or converted to a form that is no longer a threat to our planet, the remaining mass will hit
the surface of the Earth in twenty days’ time, on September 19. The remaining fragments—over three hundred pieces large enough to cause significant planetary effects—will land in a path that is projected to be over sixteen hundred kilometres in width and over six thousand kilometres in length.”

He took a drink from the glass of water on the table beside him.

“Our best estimates are that this impact area will begin over southern Europe and northern Africa and extend westward across the Atlantic Ocean, continuing as far as the central part of the North American continent.

“I am aware that there have been rumours, and that hundreds of thousands of people have already relocated to what they believe are safe areas outside of the impact zone. We need you to know that there are
no
safe areas. The impact of these fragments will release more than twenty times the energy of all the nuclear devices used in the attempt to destroy the asteroid.

“This will result in a cloud of ash, dust, and smoke obstructing the sun and eliminating all plant life. A drastic rise in global temperature will result in the melting of the polar ice caps, and the subsequent rise in ocean levels is predicted to be over four metres. The effect of this will be the extinction of all life, with the possible exception of certain primitive deep-sea creatures that do not rely on photosynthesis for their survival.

“It is with great sadness that I make this announcement, but we felt strongly that we had a moral responsibility to inform you of the impending events. I want you to know
that we worked to our utmost capacity, using all the resources available, to change this outcome. But in the end, we failed. I wish to formally apologize for that failure to avert this tragedy, and as the leader of the institute, I acknowledge my ultimate responsibility.”

Sheppard looked up from his papers and directly into the camera.

“I leave you now to spend these last days with your friends and loved ones, and to seek peace. Although I am not a deeply religious man, I am a man of faith. I hope, in the time that remains, that we can treat one another as if there is a God, and He is watching us. Good night.”

There was a slight pause. “And we’re clear!” the director called out.

The bright lights shut off and the camera was wheeled away from Sheppard. He tried to get up but his legs wobbled and he slumped back into the seat.

“Are you all right?” Parker asked.

“I would imagine I’m as fine as I can be, considering that I’ve just announced a death sentence on the entire planet.”

Parker offered him a hand and he rose to his feet.

“Remember, you didn’t cause this—you just announced it,” Parker said.

“But I didn’t stop it, either, and that, ultimately, was my job.”

“If you failed it’s because we all failed. What wasn’t your job was to go on a world-wide broadcast and personally tell everybody,” Parker said.

“I felt I had no choice.”

“Well, I’m convinced it would have been better for them to believe in their safety until the end. Do you think that the world knowing the facts is going to change anything for the better?”

“They still had the moral right to know,” Sheppard said.

“And do you think they’re now going to act in a
more
moral way?” Parker questioned. “Look around at what’s already happening out there.”

“I can only hope.”

Parker shook his head. “You really are an idealist.”

“I guess we’ll see.”

“What I don’t have to guess about is the fact that you’ve made my job that much harder,” Parker said. “For seventeen years we’ve worked to keep your identity and image unknown. Now everybody knows who you are and what you look like. You might as well have painted a target on your back.”

“I can’t believe that Judgment Day cares anymore whether I live or die.”

“They care. There’s still a bounty on your head. Besides, every religious nut hoping to get to Heaven or paradise or reincarnation, or whatever, might think that killing you is their ticket to ride. And that’s not even the worst of it,” Parker said. “You’ve just gone and told the rest of the world that it’s because of you that we’re all going to die. If I didn’t know you personally, I might want to shoot you myself.”

“I guess tomorrow or in twenty days … it’s all the same,” Sheppard said.

Parker leaned in closer. “It doesn’t have to be twenty days,” he whispered. “You know that … there
is
a choice.”

The door slid open and Sheppard started slightly. When he realized it was Parker he felt relieved and grateful … but why was Parker carrying a rifle? Parker always carried a weapon, but he had never seen him with a rifle before.

“Is everything all right?” Sheppard asked nervously.

“As right as it can be.”

“But the gun … the assault rifle …”

“It’s because things are only as right as they can be
given the circumstances
. How is it going out there?” he asked, gesturing to the news report playing on the screen behind Sheppard.

“The trickle of migration has become a mass exodus,” Sheppard reported. “Large parts of Europe and the Eastern Seaboard of North America—coastal areas around the world are all being completely deserted.”