Heroic Measures (continued)

“It’s a most reasonable hypothesis,” Zing offered, looking almost painfully thoughtful.

Had he been mechanical, Walter was certain that they would have heard gears turning as the researcher continued to mull over the implications of their theory.

He, Red, and Isabel were gathered in one of the small conference rooms on the penultimate floor of the building. This was the level where Raynes and the other leaders tended to host visitors to whom, for one reason or another, they did not want to provide access to the executive level. Vivian had chosen, giving no clear reason, not to accompany them.

Raynes had joined them, dressed slightly less formally than the last time they had seen him. He seemed a bit less harried as well. Harrison was seated beside Raynes at the table looking, if possible, even more gruff and dour than usual. Westin was conspicuously absent.

The institute leader stared at Zing thoughtfully for several long moments. No one else dared to speak. Walter was sure, though, that, like him, everyone else was bristling with curiosity at what the man would say.

“It explains a great deal,” Raynes agreed with a conviction that told Walter that he believed it completely. He turned his head toward Harrison without facing him. “What’s the forecast show?”

Harrison tapped at the tablet he was holding. The holographic display glowed to life above the center of the table. Its sharp, coruscating spectrum lines merged into what, at first, looked like a topographical map. Walter then realized that the objects on it were moving.

Mountains and hills don’t move, Walter reminded himself.

“How long do we have?” Raynes asked.

Harrison’s gaze swept over the map and then looked toward Zing. The researcher studied the map intently.

“Seventy-two hours,” he announced finally. “No more.”

Raynes’ lips formed a tight line. His eyes took on a dull cast. To took Walter several seconds to find the right word for it.

Not weary . . . haunted. Like a man with terrible memories . . .

Raynes continued staring at the map.

“Recall Westin,” he told Harrison. “Call everyone in.”

His tone, while quiet and restrained, sent chills tingling throughout Walter’s body.

Walter stared at the map, trying to understand what the others saw there. Vague rounded shapes pulsed, shifting in size and position, moving like malignant cells across the holograph’s invisible surface.

“A storm is coming,” Isabel whispered next to him.

Walter turned to find her staring at the moving images that hung before them in mid-air. The look in her eyes was much like the one he had seen in Raynes’.

Walter’s eyes widened as realization came to him. He remembered seeing similar maps before, as early as that morning. Although much less detailed, it had revealed the same thing: a storm was on its way. What he had viewed earlier as a minor inconvenience might now become what could be one of the worst things to strike the city in its history.