The New World Read online

  The New World

  © 2012 Toby Neighbors

  Published by Mythic Adventure Publishing

  Post Falls, Idaho

  All Rights Reserved No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any print or electronic form without permission.Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Cover Designed by

  Camille Denae

  Copy-editing by Alexandra Charles

  http://aacharles.elance.com

  Dedication:

  To my beautiful wife Camille

  For your constant support and unwavering faith in me.

  We’re doing it!

  Chapter 1

  Daniel Brickman was on the first tee of the blue course at the Potomac Park Golf Course. He was swinging his driver and trying to loosen up when the sphere first appeared. He just happened to be looking north, where he could see the top of the Washington Memorial, when the strange object seemed to fall from the sky. It was black and perfectly round. It appeared to drop slowly from the sky, and as it did, the noise in the capital increased dramatically. The city’s emergency sirens began wailing, an ominous sign that seemed even more unsettling on such a bright and beautiful Tuesday afternoon.

  This was a special day off for a young speechwriter just out of law school. Daniel had been working nonstop his first three months in Washington. He had joined the team of Senator Blandwight thinking that life in the nation's capital would be exciting. The reality was 14 hour days in a stuffy library researching decisions and precedents and verifying facts for senior speechwriters, so that Senator Blandwight could drone on in mind-numbing speeches that no one listened to or cared about. Nathan Blandwight was a Democrat from Arkansas merely following his party's platform, with no ambition or desire to legislate anything. He co-signed bills when he was told to, and spent most of his time on long lunches and dinner parties. Life for Daniel was dull and lonely.

  Daniel was quickly learning to look out for himself. Every person he met had lost all the idealism that had led them to Washington, as it had Daniel. His colleagues were selfish and cruel; some were striving to move into positions where they might be the party's next choice for public office. Others were simply intent on covering all their bases so that they alone might receive the praise for a successful idea, while ensuring that blame for bad policies would skip them entirely. And some were merely treading water, hoping to stay employed without actually doing anything. Daniel worked, if that word could be used, with several middle aged men who arrived at the library everyday and spent all their time talking about mundane things as they sipped from flasks until they were completely drunk.

  Now that the Senate was not in session, the pace of work had slowed and Daniel had taken the opportunity to enjoy the beautiful springtime weather. He had thought that nothing could keep him from playing golf today, everything seemed perfect. And then a large, metallic ball had dropped from the sky and looked to be hovering over the Ellipse Park, just south of the White House.

  The emergency sirens that sounded in the event of severe weather or terrorist attack were now joined by the screeching of emergency vehicles that were racing to the scene. Car horns and people shouting could be heard in the idyllic surroundings of the Potomac Park Golf Course. And while he watched the sphere, which appeared to be hovering two or three hundred feet from the ground, with fascination, he also felt the pull of another ball—a little white one that was teed up high and ready to be rocketed down the first fairway. Daniel wavered for a moment, trying to make up his mind about what he should do. Finally, after toying with the idea of ignoring the phenomenon, he grabbed the ball and tee and stuffed them into his pocket. He shoved his driver back into his golf bag and stepped onto his cart. The cart was actually a three-wheeled device with two big wheels attached to the front of a platform and one smaller wheel at the rear. A tall column rose from the platform, with steering controls at the top. His golf bag was strapped securely in front of the column, and Daniel stood on the platform behind the column. The third small wheel, attached at the rear of the platform, gave stability to the cart. It was a unique way to move players around the course at optimum speeds. Daniel pushed the throttle to its rubber stopper and sped off toward the parking lot.

  He was headed for his small hybrid car when he realized that the traffic on I-395 was at a standstill. Drivers were standing around their cars, looking up at the drone, others were honking, but no one seemed to be moving. Already the golf course parking lot was jamming up with people trying to get onto Ohio Drive. Daniel made a split second decision and pulled the touring bicycle down from the roof-mounted rack on the top of his car. He tossed his golf clubs in the car and keyed the security system. He then hopped on the bicycle and headed straight for the exit. He zoomed along the sidewalk, oblivious to the beautiful blue water of the Washington Channel, and went under I-395 and Highway 50 and then turned onto East Basin Drive. Cars were at a standstill here, too, but Daniel was able to skirt around them. He merged onto Main Avenue and joined the people walking towards Independence Avenue and the parks beyond. Once he reached the Washington Monument, he took the bicycle onto the well-manicured lawn. He could see the crowds at the foot of the monument, staring up at the object which now appeared to be hovering in the sky.

  As he approached, he had to slow down and divide his attention between the sphere and the throng of people in front of him. The giant, black ball was poised in midair exactly over the center of the Ellipse. Daniel heard a police officer shouting for the crowds to disperse, but no one was moving away. Daniel’s mind buzzed, searching for an explanation for the phenomenon in the sky. Was it the first contact from an alien race? The idea seemed to squeeze Daniel's brain like a giant fist. He heard snatches of conversation as he maneuvered his bike through the people.

  “... alien spaceship, it's gotta be...”

  “... I knew it. I always knew...”

  “... do you think they want?”

  “... known about it for a long...”

  The conspiracy theories began to flip through Daniel's mind like the cards from the library's archaic card catalog. No one used the card catalog anymore, but it still stood in the center of the library, surrounded by shelves of books. Daniel had flipped through it once, marveling at the complexity of the system that had been the standard before the widespread implementation of computer filing. The first big conspiracy was the Roswell incident in the 1940s. Could it be true that the government had found and hidden the wreckage of an alien spacecraft? Then, of course, the pyramids, the crop circles, the abduction stories—could it all be true? Daniel still couldn't rid himself of the feeling that these conspiracies were fiction, but he couldn't explain away the large, metallic ball in the sky, either. He knew as he looked up at it that he was staring at history in the making, a day no one would forget.

  The sphere itself was perfectly round. There seemed to be no openings or indentations on the object at all. It was a flat black color that contrasted greatly with the dazzling blue sky above it. It could have openings, Daniel thought, the black color would hide them perfectly. He felt strange again, as if his feelings of denial, revelation, excitement, and wonder were ocean waves rushing over him and flowing away again. He could feel his security flowing away like sand under his toes as each wave of emotion flowed back out into the unknown, which had grown immense with the appearance of the alien spacecraft.

  Suddenly a new emotion hit Daniel; it was as sharp and painful as a jagged stone on the sea floor when a person unknowingly steps on it. Fear, it came along with his mind's unconscious registration of what the policeman on the loud speaker was saying.

  “... yourselve
s to radiation. Please return to your homes. This event is being covered by all major news networks. You are hereby ordered to return to your homes. I repeat: contamination threat is high. Homeland Security Threat Level is Red. You must evacuate all public spaces and return to your homes. You could be exposing yourselves to radiation...”

  Daniel suddenly realized the dangers of being in the presence of an unknown alien vessel. He turned his bike and raced away. The journey home was long, he lived in a tiny apartment complex on the edge of town. He was able to skirt most of the traffic, which was jammed like the arteries of an elderly man with heart disease. Once he was at home, he rode the bicycle into the apartment. He immediately turned on the news and dropped onto his sofa. The correspondents were discussing possibilities and revealing that no one was prepared for the strange sphere’s sudden appearance. Hours passed, and Daniel sat mesmerized, listening to the commentary, watching the live video feed, and simultaneously reading the ticker at the bottom of the screen that was announcing bullet points from press releases sent to the networks from various fringe groups and conspiracy enclaves. Finally, as night started to settle on Washington, Daniel's stomach growled loud enough to get his attention.

  He went to the kitchen and opened the freezer. The shelves were stocked with frozen dinners; some were labeled healthy, while others were full on fat, grease, and sauce. Daniel selected one of the former, not sure how his stomach would hold up under the stress of what was happening to his world. He had learned that similar objects had appeared over highly populated areas on each continent except for Antarctica, each hovering around 600 ft. from the ground. No other information had been released. The president was due to speak at any moment, and as Daniel waited in front of his microwave, he heard music preceding a special announcement. He abandoned his dinner and returned to the couch to see what the president would say. Instead, a news anchor sat with a dazed expression on his face.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, in a few moments the President of the United States will be speaking live from the White House. Our sources there tell us that the spheres are not part of government or military aircraft. U.N. Ambassadors and other representatives from every major country are gathering to discuss these strange vessels, but so far, no one has claimed any knowledge of the spheres or where they might have come from.”

  Daniel felt that his heart had stopped beating. Surely this was a prank, some sort of twisted practical joke by a group of nerdy computer geniuses. The news anchor looked visibly pale and shaken. He cleared his throat and gripped the edge of the desk before speaking.

  “Some are claiming that the spheres are extraterrestrial in origin, but we have no hard facts to confirm this. Everyone is encouraged to stay in their homes, to stay tuned to your local news station-”

  Suddenly the black object hanging over the Ellipse Park, shown on video feed behind the small box that showed the news anchor, shot into the sky and disappeared into the night. The newscaster merely sat looking frightened in front of the camera. Daniel double checked the locks on his apartment door then sat looking dumbfounded at the television. His mind whirled as he considered what this could possibly mean. Finally the news anchor spoke.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I now have word that the president is going to speak. Please stand by.”

  The picture changed from a split screen view of the park, where there were still crowds staring up into the sky where the sphere had been positioned, and the news anchorman, to a full shot of the press room inside the White House. The heads of reporters could be seen below the podium that bore the official seal of the President of the United States. Daniel waited as people entered the room. Finally, the president entered and strode purposefully to the center of the platform. He gripped the edges of the podium and began to speak. His voice was reassuring and calm. He urged people to stay in their homes and continue monitoring the news. He assured everyone that the considerable resources of the U.S. Military had been monitoring the drone and had concluded that no emissions had been released from the object, but the Center for Disease Control was mobilizing the best scientific minds in the world to combat any chemical or viral threat that might have been released from the drone. He continued to talk, but Daniel was suddenly lost in thought. If there was radiation, or some form of chemical or biological agent had been released, then he was surely a dead man. He had been almost directly under the alien craft and would have been exposed to the highest concentration of any airborne agent. He closed his eyes, his hunger completely gone, and felt tears begin to sting his eyes. He didn't want to die, he was too young, too dissatisfied with what little bit of life he had lived.

  He decided to call his parents to see if they had been watching or had heard anything different than he had. He knew they wouldn’t have answers, but just hearing their voices would be reassuring. He picked up the telephone, but all circuits were busy. He tried his cell phone but it was the same story. He opened his computer and typed an email and fired if off to his family. Suddenly gunshots rang out. They sounded close, and Daniel decided it might be wise to turn off the lights and not draw any attention to himself. After shutting off the lights and closing the window blinds, he tried the telephones once more. The lines were still busy. He returned to the couch and stretched out, suddenly very tired. He had forgotten that he hadn't eaten anything since a late breakfast. And now, even though he was no closer to knowing who or what had sent the sphere over Washington, his body was relaxing after a prolonged period of intense anxiety. News reports came in of riots and looting. People were urged to stay home while police and military personnel worked to maintain law and order. A list of things Daniel would have liked to have gotten if people were just taking whatever they wanted flashed through his mind, but he was too tired to get out. Besides, he thought fatalistically, he would probably be dead soon.

  Chapter 2

  That night Daniel fell asleep on his sofa. He woke up early the next morning and immediately began watching the news. There were reports of widespread rioting and looting, of religious frenzy and mass suicides. The hospitals were filling rapidly with people wounded or killed by crimes of violence. Among the many reports was the story of a strange sickness that seemed to be affecting the elderly and those with diminished immune systems. The ailment seemed to be entirely muscular, with people complaining of stiffness and difficulty moving. Daniel was stiff and sore, but he wasn't sure if it was due to some alien virus or from sleeping on the couch.

  He spent the day watching the news and emailing his parents. Email was the only way of communicating, and they seemed well. They were worried about him, especially since he was in D.C., but there was nothing they could do about that now. Most of the highways were packed with people, wrecks and abandoned cars made travel almost impossible, and it only made sense to stay home, away from the crazy looters and the invisible sickness.

  By that evening the strange ailment affecting the elderly had been called PARKS, due to the similarity of the symptoms to Parkinson’s disease and the fact that the sphere in Washington had hovered over a city park. Some had died already and autopsies could find no cause of death; people just stopped breathing and their hearts stopped beating. But the cases weren't just in the D.C. area, which the military had tried to quarantine. There were reports of the PARKS virus all over the U.S and in other countries as well.

  That night Daniel slept fitfully and was tired, his joints aching with fatigue and tension, but he was able to move, his muscles seemed fine. The report from his parents wasn't nearly as positive. His mother couldn't get out of bed and his father was feeling as if someone had encased him in super glue. There was no pain, and although they were scared, his parents were thinking positive. Daniel cried, his loneliness seemed to suffocate him. He lived in a city of over half a million people, but he had no friends, no one to check on and no one to check on him. His friends from law school had gone on to jobs in various places and he had been too busy to keep in touch. His family was over a thousand miles away in Arkansas, the
y were sick and probably dying and there was nothing he could do to help them. He stayed in his apartment and watched the news and contemplated suicide, but not seriously. If the PARKS virus was going to kill him then so be it, but there was something inside of him that refused to give up without a fight. It reminded him of something he had heard his Uncle Joe, a man known for bar room brawls and hard living, say once: “You never give up till the last lick’s throwed.”

  By the third day of his self imposed quarantine, his parents were no longer emailing. In the last message, his father had said that he could hardly push the keys on the computer and that he couldn't wake Daniel's mother. Most of the television stations were off the air. There wasn't much noise outside, no more sirens or gunshots or screaming. When he peeked out of the dark apartment, there were no people anywhere in sight. Cars were wrecked and vandalized, but no one and nothing was moving. Daniel spent most of the day on the couch. He still felt fine, which surprised him a little, but he was so trapped in grief and shock that he hardly moved. Finally, sometime around two, the smell of something caught his attention. It was a stuffy, unpleasant smell. He sat up, sniffing, trying to figure out what the smell was and suddenly it hit him—smoke. Something was on fire.

  He looked out the window but saw nothing. When he turned back to his apartment, the air was growing hazy. He raised his hand and brushed his fingers along the ceiling. It was hot up there; the fire was in the apartment above him. Suddenly, the crisis kicked his mind out of the funk of shock and grief and he began to think clearly. He would have to leave and there was precious little time. He ran to his bedroom and threw a few changes of clothes into a bag. He grabbed his cross trainers and stuffed his feet into them. Next he ran to the kitchen and filled up an orange sports bottle with water from the tap. His only transportation was his bicycle and although it would allow him to squeeze between the stalled traffic on the city streets, it offered little protection and allowed him to carry very few supplies.