Edward Pike had reclaimed the remains of Justin Beaumont, the soundman with the Church’s team, soon after the explosion, despite protests by the coroner. The Church had cited religious grounds and insisted his body be released without an autopsy being conducted. Pressure had been brought to bear by the government and the charred remains of the unfortunate young man had been moved back to the Church of Second Redemption’s headquarters in California for burial.
Within hours of news of the explosion reaching the outside world, Father Pike issued a statement distancing himself and the Church from the attack, blaming it on: elements within the organization who were bent on blemishing the name of the organization and advancing the goals of non-believers. The faithful were called together and asked to pray for the poor unfortunates who had lost their lives in the explosion.
Jim wasn’t buying anything the Pike was selling. His excuses were too convenient and appeared on the networks only hours after the news of the explosion was announced, raising suspicion and causing wide spread debate as to just how deeply the organization had been involved. Father Pike had refused all interviews since the attack, which only fueled critics of the new religion’s involvement.
The body of Byron Portia, linked posthumously to a rapidly growing number of previous and future murders, had not been claimed. His remains were cremated and his ashes dumped into the local landfill without any kind of ceremony.
But the true mystery that perplexed Jim and the remainder of the Tach-Comm team was just why the second Slip had not occurred. The explosion had stopped the vital signal from being broadcast; that was a certainty. The bomb carried in the assassin’s camera had destroyed the transmission equipment and its operators minutes before the signal was supposed to be activated. It left only one obvious conclusion in Jim’s mind: they had been wrong. Their calculations had been off in some way or they had missed some subtle aspect of the event.
That observation led to an even more disturbing conclusion amongst the remaining scientists: were they free of the possibility of a second event occurring? Or should they expect at any moment to be plunged back to some point on the timeline where they all would cease to exist?
It’s enough to make you paranoid, Jim thought morosely.
The sound of earth hitting the lid of Lorentz’s coffin broke Jim from his thoughts. He knelt and took a handful of the damp soil, tossed it down into the open grave and said a silent farewell to the man who had changed the lives of so many people.
The service over, mourners began walking slowly back to their waiting cars. Jim and Becky made their way over to the concrete path running beneath a copse of trees. Simone stood with Lark, waiting patiently beneath the tree’s leafless branches.
“Hello Daddy,” said Lark, as she ran full force into his legs, throwing her arms around his knees.
Picking the little girl up Jim planted a kiss on her forehead. “Hey there baby girl.”
“Mommy said that I could come stay with you,” she blurted out excitedly. “Can we go to the lake, daddy? Can we?”
Jim’s heart skipped a beat as his little girl let slip the answer to a question he had asked his ex-wife while still in hospital. The chance to spend time with his child would be a gift that he could never repay.
“Can we go this weekend, Daddy? Please?” pleaded Lark, as Jim set his child back down onto the ground.
Jim looked up at Simone who smiled back before saying “If that’s okay with your Father—”
“Yes, of course. Definitely. This weekend would be fine,” said Jim, the words racing from his mouth as if he was afraid the offer would be retracted.
That elicited a whooping cry of delight from the child as she launched herself at her father’s legs again.
“I have your cell number,” Jim said. “I’ll give you a call with a time I’ll be able to pick her up.”
Simone looked tired. She had endured much in the time since the explosion. Her involvement with the Church had immediately drawn suspicion from government sources. Questioned about her involvement with Gallagher and his plot to sabotage the experiment, she had pleaded her ignorance of any involvement. And, when finally the identity of Gallagher and his link to the murders of so many women had been revealed, Simone had been released.
Jim thought the government’s part in allowing the killer access to the Tach-Comm project may have contributed to her halfhearted interrogation and quick release.
Leaning in close, Jim kissed his ex-wife gently on the cheek and whispered “Thank you.” Then, with a final hug for his kid and a “See you this weekend, sweetheart,” he took Becky’s hand in his own and started down the concrete path toward the parking lot.
Fifty-Three
A black Lincoln sedan with government plates was idling next to Jim’s car in the parking lot of the cemetery.
Jim recognized Colonel Geoffrey DeWitt leaning against the hood of the vehicle, blowing gray clouds of cigarette smoke into the air.
At sight of Jim and Becky walking toward him, he tossed the cigarette to the ground and crushed it into the gravel with a quick twist of his booted foot. DeWitt walked around to the rear of the Lincoln and opened the passenger door, spoke to the occupant, and the stepped aside.
“Hello you two,” squeaked Adrianna Drake as she stepped from the car, looking somber in a black dress, a white rose pinned to her breast. Not waiting for a reply from either of her friends, she positioned herself between them and took a hand from both in her own. “Come with me,” she said. “We have lots to talk about.” Turning her head to speak to the Colonel, she said with a smile, “If I’m not back in half an hour send out the search party.”
A smile and a nod in return from the soldier acknowledged the remark. “Will do, Doctor Drake.”
“He’s cute, don’t you think?” said Adrianna with a knowing wink to Rebecca as they strolled across the parking lot, gravel crunching beneath their feet.
“A little old for you,” said Jim, summoning his most fatherly tone of voice.
“I’ll grow into him,” replied Adrianna, with a mischievous glint in her eye.
Annexed between the parking lot and the entrance to the cemetery was a garden of remembrance; a two-acre field of green, cordoned off by English yew trees that stretched like sentinels into the sky, standing eternal watch over the dead.
A concrete path meandered through flowerless rose beds and pools of Koi, past poetry inscribed copper plaques and the occasional park-bench strategically placed to overlook the most peaceful scenery the location offered.
The three friends strolled slowly down the path until Adrianna stopped them at a pond. With a cacophony of quacks, a flurry of ducks swam lazily toward them from their island sanctuary at the pools center.
“Wish I had some bread,” said Adrianna, as she watched the fearless birds gliding their way.
“I don’t think you brought us here to feed the fowl,” Jim said.
“No. No, I didn’t,” she smiled back. “I didn’t get a chance to sit and talk with you both with all the commotion after the attack and you being in hospital and all. I thought I needed to explain what happened.”
Becky interrupted her. “It’s okay,” she said laying a reassuring hand on her small shoulder. “I understand why you—”
“No, you don’t understand,” insisted Adrianna, “I’m not talking about what happened at the lab. I’m talking about what happened after you left me to go check the explosion.”
“What do you mean, after I left?”
Adrianna raised her hands out in front and spun slowly around. “All this: the ducks, the park, you, me, everything… it’s still here. And it shouldn’t be.”
“We made a mistake in the calculations or we misinterpreted the signal, that’s the only possible answer. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here having this conversation,” Jim said.
Adrianna shook her head. “No.”
“No?”
“I mean that’s not the explanation. There’s another explanation. There’s a reason we are all still here.”
Adrianna led her two friends over to a wrought iron bench overlooking the pond. She motioned for Rebecca and Jim to join her.
“After you left to go check out the explosion I was waiting next to the receiver,” she said, as the three of them sat. “And at exactly midnight, I heard a voice coming over the receiver: it was Lorentz’s.” Jim started to object but Adrianna stopped him dead. “I know what I heard Jim. It was definitely Lorentz’s voice.”
Jim looked askance at her. “But he was already dead. The transmitter was destroyed in the explosion as well as the generator. There was no way he could have broadcast any kind of a signal even if he had survived the explosion.”
“It was him, Jim,” she instead. The soul and memories contained in this child’s body were those of a much older woman, Jim remembered, but right now the emotional response to Jim’s disbelief was that of a little girl. Adrianna stared down at her feet as though chastised.
Jim placed a reassuring arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay,” he said and then after a moment before they both felt too awkward, he added, “So what did he say?”
“Who?… Oh! Lorentz.”
For a little while, she turned her attention back to the ducks as they swam away, back to their island nest, tired of waiting for food from the human interlopers to their world.
Finally, she said “One. Two. Three. He said, one, two, three.’”