Imagine (Fuzed Trilogy Book 2) Page 5

  He had to talk to several people before finding someone who could give him directions to where Elizabeth was working. It was early evening when he located the office, but there was no one in it. Looking closer, he saw a blonde head bobbing just below the top of the desk. Peeking over it, he saw his wife sitting on the floor between two partially disassembled computers with cables going everywhere.

  Masking his voice with a heavy accent, he said, “Eh, baby, can you help me with my hard drive?”

  Without looking up, she said, “Sure, honey, just don’t tell my husband.” She added, “About time. What’d you do, swim the Gulf of Mexico?”

  He smiled and said, “I see they’re putting your neurological expertise to use.”

  “Actually, they are.” Sighing, she nodded toward the disassembled computers and added, “My patients just aren’t human.”

  He came around and kissed her on top of her head, saying, “Hey, I got to tell you about some weird text conversations I’ve had over the last couple days.”

  As she looked up at him, he read the frustration and weariness in her face and added, “But ... we can talk about that later. What can I do to help?”

  She sighed as she looked down at the cables in her hand. “We’re trying to establish a network to the field hospitals so we can send and receive data and video for diagnosis and treatment.” Frowning, she added, “Just need to make these computers talk nicely to each other. I’ve got most of the hardware figured out, but I’m having a heck of a time with the software. The documentation’s all in Spanish and ....” She stopped and looked up at him. “Wait a minute! You can read Spanish. Get your butt down here.”

  They worked into the wee hours of the morning, but finally got the system operating. Tired but satisfied, they retired to a very small room in a dormitory across from the hospital. They shared a tiny mattress, which required sleeping in a spoon position.

  Over her shoulder, Elizabeth said, “Josh, the earthquake’s epicenter was about 500 kilometers southwest of Bogota, and many people there didn’t evacuate. There were a lot of head injuries. They desperately need supplies and nursing relief.” She paused. “I volunteered to go.”

  “What time do we leave?”

  She just said, “Thank you.”

  He was about to bring up the conversations he’d had with Jen, when Elizabeth sighed and said softly, “Josh, we’ve never talked about ... having children.”

  He was concerned where that thought came from, but he wouldn’t make the same mistake he made with Kelly. Before she could say more, he said, “Yes, I’d like to have kids too.”

  She whispered back, “I love you.”

  He held her close as she quickly fell asleep.

  Morning came a few hours later. Josh’s new body didn’t require more than four hours of sleep, but he noticed Elizabeth’s normally bright demeanor was somewhat compromised. Fortunately, expecting long hours, Elizabeth had brought energy drinks with her. Being a nurse, of course, it was an insanely healthy one with no sugar and 4900% vitamin B-12.

  Returning from the shower wearing nothing but a towel, she looked very good. Smiling, he offered her the energy drink in exchange for her towel.

  Removing the wet towel thrown at his face, he handed her the drink.

  Fifteen minutes later, a big van picked up Josh, Elizabeth, two doctors and two nurses, along with several large bags of medical supplies.

  Elizabeth introduced Josh to the team. There was a general surgeon from Germany named Dieter. Dieter was in his late forties, large and loud, but friendly. From Israel, there was an internal medicine physician named Michelle. The polar opposite of Dieter, she was in her thirties, petite, quiet and stern looking. Finally, he met Leah, a cute, young nurse anesthetist from the Philippines.

  The van drove them to the Guaymaral airport, a small municipal field about 25 kilometers north of the city. The driver took them right out onto the tarmac so they could load the bags onto the aircraft.

  As they approached the aircraft, Josh noticed two things — the small white control tower looked like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, and their ride didn’t look much better. Josh eyed the twin-engine transport skeptically. He was no civil aircraft expert, but recognized a classic Beech 18. With radial engines and a twin tail, it was a 1930s design. Although they continued to build them into the 1960s, this one looked like it came right out of World War II.

  As Josh stepped out of the van, he saw the pilot doing his preflight. About 30, he had a shock of sandy hair, and looked and dressed like a soccer player. After helping the pilot load the bags into the back of the plane, Josh introduced himself in Spanish.

  The pilot shook his hand and smiled. “Christian Montoya.”

  The old plane was spacious inside and seated six passengers, but with all the medical supplies, it was tight with five. Dieter took the co-pilot seat, explaining in heavily accented English that he was a pilot too. Weighing more than two nurses, it was best to have him up front for the aircraft’s “weight and balance.”

  Josh sat directly behind the pilot next to Elizabeth. Michelle and Leah, the lightest, sat behind them.

  He felt a little uneasy, but couldn’t put his finger on it.

  Elizabeth noticed and asked, “Backseat driver syndrome?”

  He shrugged. “Probably.”

  Their destination was Antonio Nariño Airport near Pasto, Columbia, about 500 kilometers southwest of Bogota. The access roads to the region were badly damaged by the earthquake and largely impassable. Their mission was to relieve medical personnel already there and bring in needed supplies.

  Josh was encouraged when the big radial engines coughed to life with a strong, stable staccato.

  The takeoff was smooth, but the climb was leisurely due to the airport’s high elevation and the plane’s heavy load. They just barely cleared the range of hills surrounding the airfield before entering a thick overcast layer. Within a few minutes, they broke out on top into hazy sunshine, and Josh relaxed a little.

  Elizabeth nudged Josh and pointed at the pilot, who was frequently looking at his phone.

  Josh leaned forward to catch what was on the phone’s screen. Then, leaning toward Elizabeth’s ear to be heard over the engines, he said, “Angry Birds.”

  She laughed.

  He added, “He’s using his phone’s GPS for navigation.”

  Elizabeth furrowed her brow.

  Josh shrugged. “It’s an old aircraft. Probably never been updated with modern nav equipment.” Nodding toward the window, he added. “With the solid cloud layer below, he can’t use ground references.”

  She nodded. “There’s cell phone reception up here?”

  “Maybe, but he’s probably using a navigation app that only needs GPS satellite signals.”

  Satisfied, she put her head back and closed her eyes.

  Josh knew she’d need all the sleep she could get. Once there, they’d be working around the clock. Wearing his cyber glasses, he decided to take advantage of the time to read. Although the glasses had been available for many years, they only became popular after improvements to the displays, batteries and relevant apps. Until the arrival of powerful digital assistants, cyber glasses had been just another dangerous distraction. The turning point came after digital assistants were smart enough to be aware of the user’s environment. They could then tailor information to assist, rather than distract from, the tasks at hand. He smiled. Or maybe their success was because they’d figured out how to make them look like designer sunglasses instead of geek-wear. Although they had unlimited applications, Josh used them mostly for navigation and reading books.

  Able to read a couple books a day, he spanned topics from science to history. He’d just finished a biography on General Patton and was starting one written by a neurosurgeon about heaven. If he ever reestablished contact with Jesse, he had tons of topics to bounce off him. He missed their conversations.

  Carl got in his car for the morning commute to CIA headquarters. To keep clear of traff
ic jams, he clipped his phone into the windshield holder as he did every morning. The detour function immediately suggested an alternate route to keep him clear of a massive jam on the Beltway.

  He followed the recommended detour, but quickly found himself stuck in total gridlock. Calling the office to tell them he’d be late, he found he wasn’t the only one. The jam was widespread. With nothing else to do, he listened to the local and national news. It became apparent that similar jams were occurring in cities all over the world. What made the traffic jams international news was the fact that there wasn’t any apparent reason for them.

  Two hours later, Josh was engrossed in his book when Elizabeth nudged him. He looked up and saw the plane was in a gentle turn. Dieter, in the copilot seat, was watching the pilot intently. The pilot was fixated on his phone and unconsciously shaking his head.

  Josh gave Elizabeth a meaningful look and nodded toward Dieter seated in front of her.

  Elizabeth leaned forward and said, “My husband was a test pilot.”

  The big doctor nodded and clumsily squeezed past the center console and out of the cockpit.

  Josh slipped into the copilot seat, nodding at the pilot. In addition to his high school Spanish, Josh had memorized several thousand medical and aviation terms. He studied the controls and gauges as he put on the headset. Keying the inter-cockpit communication, he asked, “Que pasa?”

  Montoya told him everything was fine.

  In Spanish, Josh added, “I was a military test pilot and instrument instructor. Can I help?”

  Looking relieved, Montoya said, “There are no working radio nav aids out here. I have a strong GPS signal on my phone, and the nav app appears to be working fine, but it keeps turning us and the distance hasn’t changed. We should be there by now, and we’re getting low on fuel. The weather report said it was supposed to be scattered clouds.” He shook his head, “If I could just see the ground ....”

  Josh scanned the horizon. They were above a solid overcast layer that extended as far as the eye could see. He looked down at the fuel gauges. “Are these accurate?”

  Montoya nodded.

  Without keying the mic, he said, “Bummer.”

  Davidson sat in his office carefully going through a pile of new intelligence reports. He stopped, took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Loosening his tie, he looked across his office at a small decorative mirror on the wall. The reflection was that of a wiry long-distance runner who looked more like a professor than the Director of the CIA. He put his glasses back on, but before he could pick up another report, he heard a knock on his open door.

  It was the Technology Director Dan Chen. Standing next to him was the head of the CIA’s IT department, Julie Atlas. Chen asked, “Got a minute?”

  Davidson nodded. “What’s up?”

  Chen looked at Atlas.

  She said, “Sir, we had a computer breach. Someone hacked our central records system.”

  Davidson frowned. “When?”

  She said, “We just found it, but it may have happened a couple days ago.”

  “How’d they get in and what did they get?”

  “We’re still trying to figure out how they did it, but we’re pretty sure they only accessed and copied one set of files.”

  Davidson raised his eyebrows in question.

  She looked at a piece of paper in her hand, but before she could answer, Chen said, “Josh Fuze.”

  Davidson looked past them, thinking.

  After a few seconds, Chen said, “I thought he was dead.”

  Davidson said softly, “He was.”

  Atlas glanced at both of them curiously, but said nothing.

  Davidson looked directly at Atlas. “I want a copy of everything that was compromised. I want to know how they did it and any ideas on who might be behind it.” He paused. “I also want an immediate review of all computer security systems and procedures.”

  Atlas said, “Yes sir. We’re working on that now. Whoever is behind this had to be extremely sophisticated, or—”

  “It was an inside job,” Chen finished quietly.

  Atlas continued. “We’ll figure it out.”

  A little softer, Davidson added, “Call me as soon as you know more.” He dismissed them and picked up the phone. “Pat, can you please get a hold of the Bogota Bureau Chief on an encrypted line?”

  Davidson sat thinking, drumming his fingers on the desk. A few minutes later, his phone rang. He was surprised how fast she had reached the Bureau Chief, but it was unusual for the Director to call personally.

  “Hi, Jocelyn, it’s Brian. How’re you doing?”

  “Great, sir. The office came through the quake with minimal damage, and we should be fully operational in a few days. What can I do for you?”

  “Need you to help me find someone. On one of the U.N. medical relief teams in Bogota, there’s an American husband-and-wife team, a Josh and Elizabeth Fuze. I need to get a message to him as soon as possible.”

  “What’s the message?”

  He paused. “When you find him, can you please ask him to come to your office so we can talk on a protected line?”

  “Yes sir, I’ll take care of it personally.”

  8

  LOST

  Josh pulled out his phone. It used a different operating system and navigation app, but showed the same information as Montoya’s. He checked Elizabeth’s — same thing. That didn’t make sense. They all had good GPS signals and the apps appeared to be working, but they weren’t showing a change of position.

  Josh shook his head and said to Montoya, “Somehow, the nav data’s bad. Comet may have damaged the Global Positioning Satellites. We’ve got to get below the overcast and find a place to land.” Josh looked at the altimeter. They were flying at 15,000 feet, just above the cloud tops. “What are the reported ceilings at the destination?”

  Montoya said, “We should be under the overcast by about 9,000 feet.”

  Josh nodded. “Any mountains around here that are above that?”

  Montoya’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure where here is, but yes, there are mountains up to 14,000 feet. The city of Pasto, 20 kilometers south of the airport, is over 8,000 feet.”

  Josh frowned. “How were you going to make the approach with the overcast?”

  Montoya shrugged. “It wasn’t supposed to be overcast, but I’ve done many GPS approaches on this.” He held up his phone. He shook his head in disgust. “The plane’s radio never works. Even so, I can usually talk to approach and the airport towers on my cell phone, but the cell towers are still out of commission in this area.”

  Josh asked, “Are we squawking 7700?”

  Montoya shrugged.

  Josh nodded. “Of course, the transponder’s probably not working either.” He rubbed his hands together. “So, how many minutes of fuel do we have?”

  Montoya looked at the gauges. “About 20.”

  Josh nodded. “Let’s see if we can find a hole in the clouds.”

  It was hazy with limited visibility. They headed for an area that looked a little thinner, but when they got there, it was still solid. It also looked like there was a huge, dark cloud ahead.

  Josh pointed at it. “Were there thunderstorms in the forecast?”

  Montoya shook his head. “No. There aren’t supposed to be thunderstorms anywhere near here.”

  Josh stared at the dark column ahead. “You know that doesn’t even look like a thunderhead; it almost looks like ....” He paused. “Let’s turn west, away from it.”

  As Montoya turned to the west, he tapped the fuel gauge and looked at his watch. Frowning, he said, “Probably only about 15 minutes of fuel left.”

  Josh shook his head. “Then, we don’t have a choice. We’ve got to get under this cloud layer.”

  Josh strapped into the copilot seat as Montoya pulled the engines back and began a descent. Glancing back at nervous faces behind him, he could tell everyone knew something was wrong. Josh smiled and yelled over the engines, “We�
��re having some navigation challenges and may have to land at an alternate airport. Make sure your seatbelts are fastened and your tray tables are in the upright and locked position.”

  He received several half-smiles.

  As they dropped into the overcast, Josh constantly crosschecked the altimeter. He strained to see through the clouds, but saw nothing. After a few seconds, he began to feel something. He’d heard the term “facial vision” used by the blind to describe a sensation of a large object in their path. He didn’t know what the mechanism was or if it was even real, but he definitely felt something massive in front of him. Knowing that there was no way he could sense anything through the clouds, he tried to ignore it. Finally, it became so strong, he told Montoya to turn right.

  Montoya frowned, but gently banked the aircraft to the right.

  Josh watched their altimeter drop below 10,000 feet and started to feel more and more anxious. Finally, just above 9,000 feet, they began to break through the overcast. They saw some faint shadows peeking from inside the whiteness. Through the thinning wisps of cloud, the first thing they saw clearly ... leaves!

  Without asking, Josh grabbed the yoke and pulled back while turning hard right. They both jammed the throttles forward. The engines screamed and the plane shuddered. All they could see was heavily forested mountain!

  The little plane buffeted at the edge of stall as the belly scraped the treetops and the right prop clipped the leaves like a weed trimmer. At 30 degrees angle of bank with engines at full power, they finally cleared the trees and could let out their breath.

  Josh let go of the yoke. Montoya leveled the wings and eased off on the throttles. Over the headset, Josh said, “Sorry about that. You have the controls.”

  Montoya said, “No problem.” Then, repeated back the standard, “I have the controls.”

  They were just below the clouds in a lush green canyon boxed in on three sides. To their left and right were mountain ranges, and behind them an even larger mountain slope extended up into the clouds. Flying through a light drizzle with only a couple kilometers of visibility, there was only one direction to go. Josh’s intuition had been right. If they hadn’t turned, they’d be part of the mountain.