The Final Call Read online

  This was no real negative, though, only reflecting how many of Emma’s old goals had been met and how many of her old dreams had come true. Even the section on wishes for friends and family wasn’t easy, mainly since her sister Tara was now doing so well as a fashion designer having failed to push herself to fulfil her potential for so long. Emma eventually settled on the wishes for Tara to find some balance in her personal life and for Dan’s father Henry to one day walk again; but even in the energised mental state she found herself, the latter seemed particularly unlikely to come true.

  Even the one intention that Emma had never shared with anyone besides the paper she’d used during previous goal-setting sessions was now three years ahead of schedule having once looked distant: her intention to be happy in a committed relationship and ready for a child by the age of 35.

  Emma smiled widely as she considered how far she’d come in recent years, and even more widely as she thought about how many happy years with Dan lay ahead.

  The motivational guru continued on with some tips about the most energising foods and the benefits of nutritional planning, and Emma took keen notes whenever something struck her as a good idea.

  But because her headphones so effectively blocked out all external noise, Emma didn’t hear the sudden thud that came from Dan’s bedroom.

  She continued obliviously, jotting down new meal-plan ideas as they entered her mind.

  And because her sun-lounger was facing the starlit lake rather than the house, she didn’t see the shadows of the two tall figures opening the bedroom door and going inside to take him away…

  V minus 98

  GCC Headquarters

  Buenos Aires, Argentina

  Early in the Argentine evening, a long row of American news crews lined up in front of the huge GCC compound to shoot their live reports for the prime-time bulletins.

  Many of them had stood on this very street multiple times in the past during the building’s days as the headquarters of the similarly named Global Space Commission, but little else felt the same.

  For unlike then, the GSC’s successor organisation — headed once again by the United Kingdom’s William Godfrey — was ‘Global’ in name only. Two particularly high-profile absentees, namely the governments of China and Russia, staunchly opposed the GCC’s creation and had vowed upon its announcement that they would not stand idly by while certain Western leaders tried to unjustifiably position themselves as the default representatives of humanity as a whole.

  The GCC’s grand opening was set for the following day, and not by accident. Opening the doors on Contact Day made more sense than doing so at any other time, Godfrey insisted, and his key supporters agreed. Since that announcement, the Chinese and Russian governments had hastily announced plans of their own for a similar organisation to be known in English as the Earth Liaison Forum, and they dealt a blow to Godfrey’s aim of a smooth GSC-GCC transition by formally launching the ELF a week before the GCC’s long-announced date.

  The ELF’s opening had been a grand spectacle, with an enormous parade and full red-carpet treatment for leaders of participating nations. No majorly surprising defections had occurred so far, but Cuba’s presence at the ELF brought the organisation’s reach far too close to American soil for President Slater’s liking, and Godfrey was well aware that some other countries with tumultuous recent relationships with Western powers were also wavering.

  Beijing’s charm offensive included an open doors policy that welcomed states who were already members of the GCC, without insisting that they withdraw. GCC Chairman Godfrey, fully aware that they were trying to bait him into a similar concession, doubled down and insisted that any countries who formally recognised the ELF would be barred from the GCC. He was able to do this without fear given the unconditional support of the United States, owing to the enormous military and economic benefits its allies were loath to give up for the sake of abstract principles of international inclusion.

  No one was foolish enough to think that the ELF’s leaders were motivated by anything other than geopolitical concerns, in any event, and it did remain true that their nations’ absence from the GCC table was through their own choice; Godfrey had repeatedly reaffirmed that no one had been unconditionally excluded from the GCC and that no one ever would be.

  The crux of the split had been Godfrey’s uncontested election as the new organisation’s Chairman, a decision which most major Western leaders saw as a sensible way to ensure continuity following the disbandment of his Global Space Commission. Chinese and Russian officials, having felt very much like they were equal participants in the GSC’s inner circle in name only during the Il Diavolo crisis, refused to participate on such terms.

  Latent political divisions, never far beneath the surface, were once again on open display as two competing organisations now stood ready to present themselves as the sole legitimate point of diplomatic contact between humanity and all intelligent extraterrestrial races.

  “Ding Ziyang’s language reached a new level earlier today,” a Canadian reporter spoke into his camera, raising his voice to ensure it came across clearly over the hubbub of a hundred others doing the same. “Particularly alarming was Ding’s description of Chairman Godfrey’s recommitment to the GCC’s exclusion policy, and his insistence upon inaugurating the GCC on the anniversary of Contact Day, as ‘two deliberate acts of hostile and provocative Western aggression’. Tonight, a map of the world coloured to represent GCC-ELF divisions, like the one our viewers can see on their screens now, bears an all too familiar resemblance to the Cold War world my generation grew up in. This isn’t what we wanted for our children, and the primary question you have to ask as night falls in Buenos Aires is a simple one: what must the Messengers make of all this?”

  The reporter’s cameraman outstretched his hand twice to indicate that he still had ten seconds left.

  “And then,” the reporter continued, ready to wrap it up, “then comes the question that naturally follows: if the Messengers ever make their return, where are they going to land? When the aliens are looking for our leader, where do they turn?”

  Few expected to find an answer to these questions anytime soon, and no one expected that the Messengers’ next intervention on Earth would come not in Buenos Aires or Beijing, but a small town in northern Italy.

  V minus 97

  Lake Maggiore

  Ispra, Italy

  Although Dan had never set foot in Buenos Aires, several of the city’s landmarks were familiar to him from the countless news reports that had originated there since the fateful day when a supposedly alien sphere was discovered in the ocean off Miramar.

  The sight in his dream, however, was all new.

  He recognised the famous Gravesen signage on the building before him and thus knew that he was looking at one of the high-end chain’s luxury hotels, but his knowledge of the surrounding area ended there.

  Just as pertinently, he had no idea as to why he was there.

  I’m not here, he thought. It’s just a dream.

  And then it hit him: he was lucid. It wasn’t a dream at all.

  Like only one prior occasion, when a vision of Lolo National Forest had prompted Dan to send Trey there to record an imminent happening that turned out to be an uncloaked alien craft’s overhead flight, Dan was in full mental control of a dream-like first-person experience.

  Frightened, excited and confused all at the same time, Dan endeavoured to look around for clues. He tried to focus his energy on finding out precisely what the Messengers were trying to tell him, rather than wondering why they were communicating with him again at all — and particularly in such a roundabout way.

  Suddenly remembering the other element of his Lolo dream, Dan glanced at his wrist. He was wearing a basic digital watch, just like in real life, but its screen showed 11:15am above the following day’s date.

  He made a mental note of the time and date then resumed looking around for the main clue; for the main reason the Messengers were
showing him this, however the hell they were doing it; and for some suggestion of what he was supposed to do when he woke up.

  A deafening hail of gunfire coming from inside the building shut off Dan’s thoughts in an instant, prompting a fight-or-flight rush of adrenaline to flood through his veins. He felt his heart pounding, sure that these sensations were genuinely physical ones, and took a step towards the building.

  I’m not here for nothing, he told himself. And besides, everyone knows you can’t die in a dream… or a vision… or whatever the hell this is.

  Two employees from the reception desk emerged through the front door and sprinted past Dan without so much as a second glance. “Run!” one called.

  And run he did — in the wrong direction.

  An incongruously calm police officer intercepted Dan before he reached the door and told him in no uncertain terms that he had to retreat, not only for his own safety but to prevent the escalation of a developing situation which risked turning into a tragedy of a kind unseen in well over fifty years.

  “What’s going on in there?” Dan asked, addressing the officer directly and unsure whether any kind of reply would come, let alone a useful one.

  “They’ve taken hostages,” the officer said, settling that issue. “President Slater and the Japanese Prime Minister are surrounded.”

  Before Dan had any time to vocalise the obvious question of who had taken hostages, an all-too-familiar flag was unfurled from a window on the top floor of the hotel to answer it.

  Jet black with a small blue circle at its centre, the flag was the calling card of the so-called GeoSov movement whose members rejected any kind of future contact with extraterrestrials and had already proven willing to engage in terroristic methods to forward their aims. This version of the flag had a conspicuous arrangement of dot-like white markings in one corner, not too unlike the constellations of stars seen on many national flags.

  I can’t die when I’m not really here, Dan thought to himself, sidestepping the officer and making a dash for the door. I have to see exactly what’s happen—

  As Dan reached the doorway and attempted to step across the threshold, he collapsed like he had been shot. His hands immediately grasped the back of his neck, trying desperately and violently to claw out something that wasn’t there.

  Just when the pain reached a crescendo and Dan felt a momentary sensation of passing out, he opened his eyes and saw the vast bedroom he had fallen asleep in a few hours earlier. He was lying on the floor and his neck hurt — it hurt like hell — but the worst of the pain was behind him. He weakly placed his hands on the bed and pulled himself to his feet, calling for Emma as he did so.

  She didn’t reply.

  “This doesn’t have to be difficult,” a strong American voice boomed from the bedroom’s doorway.

  Dan froze in fear.

  “If you come with us peacefu—”

  “Emma!” Dan yelled, piercing the air with quite possibly the loudest sound he had ever made.

  But sitting out by the pool, even with the external door open, she heard nothing beyond the motivational words pouring into her ears via her noise-cancelling wireless headphones. The commercial for the premium headphones promised that buyers would get what they paid for, and it now seemed as though Dan was about to pay for Emma’s selection in the worst possible way.

  He turned around and saw not one mountain of a man but two, neither of whom were wearing any badges or discernible uniforms. Their clothing was dark, with the light making it difficult to tell black from navy blue or perhaps even a deep grey, and their expressions were even darker.

  Dan was standing now, lamenting his utter lack of apparent options rather than trying to choose between any. But just as had been the case in his remarkable dream-like vision a few moments earlier, Dan’s mind was quickly made up by a harrowing development directly in front of him.

  For beyond his two bedroom intruders, Dan saw a third man outside — moving straight towards Emma as she sat gazing out over the lake with her back to the danger that was rapidly coming her way.

  Dan’s legs drove him forward before his mind had any chance to point out that there were two hostile figures standing in the way, and one of the men roughly grabbed hold of him after only a few urgent steps.

  Dan could only watch in helpless horror as the man outside reached Emma and put one hand over her mouth while unceremoniously forcing her from her sun-lounger with the other. Her headphones fell to the ground, bouncing to a watery death in the shimmering pool.

  With his own ears having been uncovered all along, Dan heard Emma’s muffled attempts to call his name only too well. In instinctive and protective reaction to the harrowing sound, he recklessly smashed his head into the nose of the man who had been holding him. The man let go, and Dan seized a momentary opportunity to firmly kick his colleague in the groin.

  “I’m coming,” he called, now free and desperate to reassure her. He proceeded as recklessly as he had in the dream, with no concrete plan of what exactly he would do when he reached the unflustered third man who was in the process of carrying her away.

  It didn’t even come to that.

  Before Dan came face to face with the third intruder, a fourth tackled him from an unseen position and slammed him into the ground. The force of the impact between his head and the floor dazed Dan to the point of near unconsciousness. As he lay there helplessly, the only physical feeling he was aware of was the weight of the much larger man pinning him to the floor.

  “What did they tell you?” asked the fourth intruder, releasing his weight and gently slapping Dan’s face to try to bring him round. “What was the message?”

  Dan’s eyes opened wearily, with a distinct feeling circling in his aching head that they wouldn’t be open for long. These men were very clearly not friends or allies of any kind, but the impending incident he had been warned of in the dream was so explosive and so time-sensitive that Dan’s conscience was positively screaming for him to choke out the words.

  He could only impotently watch through heavy eyelids as Emma, putting up a brave but futile fight, was carried past his fallen body towards the front door. Dan knew for certain at this point that whoever these men were, they were not to be trusted; if they were willing to be so needlessly rough with Emma now, there was no way he could safely expect them to return her unharmed if he volunteered the knowledge they so clearly wanted.

  The knowledge granted to Dan in the dream-time message was the only leverage he had, and his scrambled mind wrestled with the uncomfortable possibility that this leverage was the only thing keeping the pair of them alive.

  “Tell me!” the man demanded, anger crossing his face as he positioned a firm hand under Dan’s chin and pressed against his throat. “What did they want you to know?”

  As Dan McCarthy felt the darkness coming, he forced out one final sentence with as much energy as he could muster before slipping into unconsciousness: “I’ll tell you fucking nothing.”

  V minus 96

  Drive-In

  Birchwood, Colorado

  “I wish I was in Italy,” Tara Ford sighed, slowly spinning the base of an empty wine glass between her fingertips. “Henry, how come no one ever takes me to Italy?”

  Clark McCarthy, gazing out of New Kergrillin’ Bar & Grill towards the eerily quiet drive-in lot, was the only other person left at Tara’s table. His father Henry and their friendly old neighbour Mr Byrd had long ago made a move to the restaurant section of New Kergrillin’, enjoying the free leftovers from the expensive afternoon buffet that had been laid on for political and media dignitaries.

  “You do know it’s just been the two of us for the last hour, right?” Clark asked with a grin.

  With New Kergrillin’ closed to regular customers and no bar staff present, Clark had been on barman duties all night and could now see that it was time to cut Tara off. As a guest of honour at the pre-lockdown afternoon event, she had been on the free wine for almost six hours and had handled
it well, all things considered, but enough was enough.

  “Hey, don’t blame me that you’re starting to look like your old man,” she replied with a wide grin of her own.

  Clark let out a dry chuckle. “Well, I’d say you’re starting to look like your big sister but that would be too much of a compliment since I know you’re shooting for Emma every time you sit down in front of a mirror.”

  “You’re lucky this glass is empty,” Tara gasped, pretending to splash its long-gone contents in his face. Her heavy eyes fell closed for a second or two, until she caught them in the act and blinked herself awake.

  “Do you want to call it a night?” Clark asked.

  She shook her head. “The house is empty. Except for old Rooster, I mean. It’s people-empty.”

  “Exactly; he’ll be missing you. Come on, I’ll get your coat.”

  “At least I know he’s never gonna leave me for someone else,” Tara mused, rising to her feet and walking steadily in the sensible shoes she’d chosen in experienced anticipation of how the night would end up.

  Clark handed Tara her $600 coat and kept his thoughts on her last comment to himself. He cared about Tara, but it was difficult to make the same points over and over again without them sounding like lectures. Emma had tried countless times in the past few months, repeatedly telling Tara that any man who left someone else for her was certain to do the same to her at some point, but the trappings of success and her move to Colorado Springs had seen Tara fall into all-too-familiar patterns of excess. It had happened during her modelling days in New York and it was happening again now, with Emma and Dan at times struggling to keep her in check.

  Clark had promised he’d keep an eye on Tara while they were in Italy, and he had stuck to his promise diligently.