It seemed like hours, but Jamie’s wristwatch told him that hardly thirty minutes had passed since the explosions. Television vans were pulling up. Helicopters thuttered overhead. The lobby of the Planetary Sciences building was a twisted, shattered mess.
His pocket phone jangled. Straightening up, he fumbled in his jeans pocket for it, flipped it open.
“Are you all right?” Even in the phone’s minuscule screen he could see the wide-eyed fright on Vijay’s dark face.
“I’m fine, honey,” he said, wiping at his sweaty brow.
“You’re not hurt?”
“No. They bombed the lobby. I was in my office.”
“They said on TV that four people were killed.”
Jamie glanced at the bodies laid out in a row. “It’s more than that.”
“But you’re okay?”
Nodding, he replied, “Yes, I’m fine.”
“Your face looks bruised.”
He almost smiled at her. “Dirt, more likely. I’ve been helping get the bodies out of the lobby area.”
“Come home, Jamie. That’s where I’m heading, right now.”
“The police’ll probably want to ask me some questions. I’ll get home soon’s I can.”
“I love you, dear,” said Vijay.
“Same here, love.”
He clicked the phone shut, returned it to his pocket. And felt the bear fetish that Grandfather Al had given him all those years ago. It didn’t make him feel any better, any safer.
One of the paramedics came up to him, pulling off his latex gloves. “That’s the last of the bodies. Thanks for your help.”
He took the man’s proffered hand, then walked off a ways, feeling stunned, numb. Who would do this? he asked himself. Why?
A city policeman stopped him to take his name and phone number. “The investigators’ll wanna talk to you. You’re not plannin’ on leavin’ town, are you?”
Jamie couldn’t help a wry grin. “Only to Mars,” he murmured.
“Huh?”
“No,” he said, more distinctly. “I won’t be leaving town in the next couple of weeks.”
“Okay, good,” said the police officer.
“Any idea of who did this?”
The policeman shook his head. “Hasn’t been anything like this since the troubles in the Middle East, back when I was in the Army.”
“Was this the only building hit?”
“They got the astronomy building, too. Over on the other side of the campus. And one other. Three, altogether.”
And then Jamie realized who had set off the bombs. Oh my god, he repeated silently as he walked stiff-legged alone around the Planetary Sciences building to a side entrance. Oh my god. It wasn’t Islamic fundamentalists. We have our own fanatics right here at home.
He picked his way through the litter in the hallways and entered his own office. It was messier than usual, but otherwise undamaged except for the obvious crack that ran the length of his window. I’m on the far side of the building, Jamie told himself as he sank slowly into his swivel chair. The blast didn’t carry this far.
A knock on his door made him look up. The president of the university stepped in, looking grim.
Minor T. Halberson had been a star football player for the University of New Mexico’s Lobos. Now he was a bishop of the New Morality movement and president of the university. He was a big man, still trim and tanned despite the distinguished gray flecking his temples. He was handsome, in a rugged, athletic way. He knew how to raise money, which was the primary qualification for a university president.
“You’re not hurt?” Halberson asked, without any preliminaries.
“No, I’m okay,” said Jamie.
“You look kind of grimy, if you’ll pardon my saying so.”
Jamie said, “I’ll wash up when I get home.”
“May I?” Halberson gestured toward the chair in front of Jamie’s desk.
“Sure.”
“This is terrible,” said Halberson as he eased his bulk onto the squeaking plastic chair. “I never thought I’d see the day when terrorists would strike here.”
“Neither did I.”
“Car bombs.” Halberson’s normally smiling face was grave, ashen.
“The police told me they hit the astronomy building, too.”
“And bio.”
“All science buildings.”
“Twenty-two killed, altogether.”
“In the name of god.”
Halberson looked sharply at Jamie. “You know I’m a Believer, Jamie, but this… this has nothing to do with God.”
“The people who set off the bombs think it does. They think they’re doing God’s work.”
“That’s a perversion of everything that Christianity stands for.”
“Tell them.”
Halberson drew in a deep breath. “I don’t blame you for being angry, Jamie. This has been… soul-shattering.”
Jamie nodded, tight-lipped. Don’t blame him for this, he warned himself. He’s just as shook up about it as you are.
“It seems clear,” Halberson said slowly, “that these attacks were aimed at the scientific work being done here on campus.”
“But why?” Jamie wondered. “Why are they so set against exploring Mars?”
“Because you threaten their faith,” Halberson answered.
“We found the remains of another intelligent race and that threatens their faith?”
“Their narrow definition of it, yes. I think this news about finding a fossil tipped them into violence.”
Jamie shook his head wearily. “I don’t get it. We’re uncovering facts on Mars. You can’t make facts go away. You can’t blast facts out of existence.”
“They think they can,” Halberson said. “Believe me, Jamie, I’ve had to deal with these fundamentalists in the church. They want everyone to forget that you’ve found intelligent life. They want to erase all traces of your discovery and return to where we were before you ever went to Mars.”
“That’s stupid! It’s impossible!”
“They don’t believe so. And they’re willing to die in order to destroy you and everything you’ve learned.”
Jamie fell speechless.
“It’s obvious that they want to pressure the university into dropping our Mars program.”
“Obvious,” Jamie agreed.
“You yourself might be a target, Jamie.”
Jamie felt a jolt of surprise. “Me?”
“You’re the scientific leader of the program. If these terrorists want to stop the Mars program, what better way than to assassinate its chief?”
Or murder his wife, Jamie immediately thought.
“I’m ordering a security detail for you,” Bishop Halberson said.
“And for my wife, too?”
“Yes, if you want it.”
“I do.”
“Is there anything else I can do? Just name it, Jamie. I know we don’t agree on religious faith, but I’m just as infuriated by this barbarism as you are.”
He’s sincere, Jamie realized. Looking into Halberson’s sorrowful eyes, Jamie believed that he could trust this man.
“It’s all right,” he said gently. “You won’t need to protect me for very long. I’m going back to Mars as soon as I can make the arrangements.”
“And your wife?”
“She’s going with me. It’s safer on Mars than it is here.”
Depew, Florida: Longstreet Middle School
Thirteen-year-old Bucky Winters stared disconsolately at the tabletop model he had spent so many hours constructing.
“But… zero?” he asked. “No credit at all?”
“I’m afraid not,” said Mr. Zachary.
Andrew Zachary was not only Bucky’s art class teacher, he was head of the Longstreet Middle School’s Arts and Achievement Department. Known to the students as an easy marker, Zachary was in his midforties, his face round and pleasant, his dark brown hair just starting to recede from his forehead. The students liked him; he tried to come across as their friend while still teaching them how to value their self-respect through using their hands to create art works.