Pythagoras Falls

  PYTHAGORAS FALLS

  S.A. ISON

  Pythagoras Falls

  Copyright © 2019 by S.A. Ison All rights reserved.

  Book Design by Elizabeth Mackey

  Book Edited by Ronald Ison Esq. Editing Services

  Book Edited by Lisa I. Ragsdale, Editing Services

  All rights Reserved. Except as under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a data base or retrieval system, without prior written permission of S.A. Ison

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the production of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons – living or dead- is entirely coincidental.

  OTHER BOOKS BY S.A. ISON

  BLACK SOUL RISING From the Taldano Files

  INOCULATION ZERO Welcome to the Stone Age

  Book 1

  INOCULATION ZERO Welcome to the Age of War

  Book 2

  EMP ANTEDILUVIAN PURGE

  Book 1

  EMP ANTEDILUVIAN FEAR

  Book 2

  EMP ANTEDILUVIAN COURAGE Book 3

  POSEIDON RUSSIAN DOOMSDAY

  Book 1

  POSEIDON RUBBLE AND ASH

  Book 2

  EMP PRIMEVAL

  PUSHED BACK A TIME TRAVELER’S JOURNAL

  Book 1

  THE RECALCITRANT ASSASSIN

  BREAKING NEWS

  THE LONG WALK HOME

  EMP DESOLATION

  THE VERMILION STRAIN POST-APOCALYPTIC EXTINCTION

  THE HIVE A POST-APOCALYPTIC LIFE

  FUTURE RELEASES

  SMOKEHOUSE SMILES From the Taldano Files

  PUSHED BACK THE TIME TRAVELER’S DAUGHTERS

  Book 2

  A BONE TO PICK

  SHATTERED MIND

  Ah, the machinations of man, where will it lead us?

  - Anonymous

  PROLOGUE

  2005

  Dr. Miles O’Connor’s heart was beating heavily in his chest. Fear was coiling its way around his brainstem and amygdala. Outward, his face was calm, though his hazel eyes seemed a bit bright. At forty-two, Miles was the youngest member of the team, on the AUEW (Accelerated Ultraviolet Electromagnetic Weapon) project. There were three other senior scientists and an Army Lt. Colonel in charge of the project. The project did not fall under the acumen of the Congressional oversite for nuclear weapons, since there were no nuclear components to the weapon. Nor did the project fall under the Department of Energy, for the same reasons, that and AUEW was a black project. It had been nicknamed the Pythagoras Project, Dr. Janet Abellano had suggested the name, after the Greek philosopher and mathematician, Pythagoras.

  “He was after all, the man who claimed to be the expert on the fate of the soul after death. The Pythagoras project will send the enemy on its way to death. Pythagoras will decide the fate of the dead.” Dr. Abellano had smiled viciously. Miles had thought her a cold woman, an angry woman and he tried very hard to stay under her radar. A cadaverous husk of a woman, in her early fifties, Abellano had no tolerance for unanswered questions. You’d damned well better have an answer, before she asked for one.

  The black site was located just outside of Chaparral, New Mexico. Some distance from Fort Bliss, where Miles was housed at the base’s BOQ, bachelor officer’s quarters. The site was completely innocuous, the main facility was largely underground, in a subterranean shell. Miles worked for the Department of Defense for all of his career, in some form or fashion. His last stint had been with D.A.R.P.A. Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency. Two years ago, he’d been transferred to this site, sequestered below ground. He’d been thrilled and just a little intrigued. Miles had also been filled with a patriotic duty after 9/11. His country had needed him, and he had answered the call.

  Now, he was terrified and the acute consciousness that death was close at hand and what a complete naïve fool he’d been. His eyes hooded, he looked around him, the people seemed oblivious as to what was happening around them. His sector of the Pythagoras project was nearing completion, it was an insidious weapon, meant to not only kill an enemy combatant, but kill its technologies as well. If all his data was correct, and he was sure it was precise, the figures were leading the team in an accurate direction.

  Targeted at an army, at a city, it would have the ability to tear through living tissue, in tandem the weapon also sends out an electromagnetic pulse to destroy technologies, in all its forms. Harnessing the ultraviolet pulse, it would burn through living flesh, magnified far greater than the sun’s ultraviolet rays. He was only now just learning about the extent of the weapon’s use and capability. The Pythagoras Project was a diabolical and vicious weapon, and as far as Miles was concerned, fell under the weapons of mass destruction caveat. The senior scientists were working for a greater area of effect. Larger than a city, they were aiming to destroy a country. The collateral damage was monstrous, it was one thing on a battle field, it was another to destroy families, whole communities, whole countries!

  Miles stepped into the elevator. He could feel the sweat popping out all over his body. In his lab coat pocket were two files which held his extensive research, notes and data on Pythagoras. He was taking those files and he meant to destroy them. He was sure that the research would be reproduced, but it would take them time, it would slow them down, if they could figure it out at all. It wasn’t conceit, he knew he was brilliant, and mores the pity he thought. He had also managed to manipulate other data, that would send the scientists in the wrong direction. Pythagoras must fail, it must die. He just needed to get away and execute his exit plan.

  When Miles had been a teen, his father sat him down for a heart to heart talk.

  “I see son, that you’re a smart lad. Smarter than anyone I know. I see that you’ll be going far in this world and it seems that the course you are on, you’ll be working with some pretty smart people. Sometimes being smart doesn’t mean a lot if you don’t have common sense. I see before you a bright future. But, just remember to have choices handy. Exit strategies. The world is an uncertain place. Jobs don’t last, no matter how smart you are.” Jack O’Connor advised his sixteen-year-old son.

  When Miles left college, he’d had plan A, B, C and D. When he’d gotten a job with the Department of Defense, his father once more cautioned him.

  “Son, working with the government is a tricky thing. As a scientist, working with the government can be a dangerous thing. Have an exit strategy.” Now, Miles thought his father one of the most brilliant men he knew.

  Miles had, at each step of the way in his career, made a plan A, B, C and D, just in case. The longer he worked for the government, the more he saw that perhaps he should have a different kind of strategy, a kind of plan that would allow him to disappear. In each city he worked, he set up a series of safe places to store money, cold hard cash, identifications and transportation. The more he learned of the world, of his government, of the jobs he had been assigned, the more paranoid Miles became.

  He never told a soul, and when others his own age were getting married and raising children, Miles put away his money. When he turned thirty, he bought property, an old underground bomb shelter under his mother’s maiden name, Dunn. He’d spent nearly ten years of vacations fixing it up. If he never needed it, he would simply retire there. If he did need it, he could effectively disappear off the face of the earth.

  Reaching the main level, Miles exited the elevator. He smiled at the marines on duty and walked past them. He recognized their faces and they recognized him. The marines returned his smile. When he exited the building, he let out a sigh of relief. He
wasn’t safe yet, he needed to disappear. He walked to his Honda Civic and got in. The sun was beating down and it was hot as hell, but Miles felt the chill of death down to his core. He would only have maybe an hour, perhaps two at most before all hell broke loose. He would abandon the Honda in town and then, he would disappear.

  ONE

  Present Day

  Phoenix Hugo ran through JFK International Airport, his long legs ate up the distance quickly. He was profoundly grateful that he only had his backpack as carry-on. It was beating against his back as he ran. He still wore his heavy coat and could feel the heat gathering in his chest, and the uncomfortable dampness that clung to his body. As usual, his plane was delayed and therefor late in landing. He’d flown from Boston and had just landed at JFK, only to sprint to his connecting flight, to Seattle. Of course, the terminal for the next flight was nowhere near the terminal where he’d just landed. It was always the way of traveling. Never enough time.

  His dove gray eyes scanned around him, he was six foot three in bare feet, and could easily see over the travelers’ heads as they ran to their gates. His gate was ahead, and he smiled. He’d just make it. He could see the line easing into the departure gate. It was Wednesday and Thanksgiving was looming. There was a low rumble, a subsonic roar of humanity that filled and resonated throughout the airport. It seemed to vibrate through his head.

  Phoenix knew he should have left on Tuesday, but his workload had kept him busy until the last minute. He was a Trust Accountant and worked for a large firm. This time of year, was tricky, because of fiscal concerns for the new year, that was just over a month away.

  He’d promised his mother that this year he’d come for a visit. He had five whole days and looked forward to relaxing and letting his mother baby him. Phoenix was in fact, the baby of the family. Though at thirty-four, he was far from a child. He had older twin sisters, Charlotte and Kathy; they were forty. His older brother, Forest, was forty-five. They all lived in Washington state, he was the only wayward son, choosing the east coast.

  His breath was coming in gasps as he arrived at his gate. He bent over at the waist and his backpack swung over to the side and he straightened his arm and shook it from his body. He also wrenched off his heavy coat and used the sleeve of it to wipe the sweat pouring down his face. He turned and saw several other people coming up behind him. They too were huffing and puffing, their faces drenched in sweat. Christ, he hated flying and now remembered why he rarely went home for a visit. It was always this way. The rush and the panic of getting to the gate. The frustration of missing a flight and scrambling to catch another.

  He pulled out the boarding pass from the back pocket of his jeans. He had an undershirt of thermal material and a blue and green checked flannel shirt. I should know better than to over dress, he thought darkly, wiping once more at his face. He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. He could feel his heart begin to slow, the sheer panic beginning to recede.

  He could now concentrate on the music that had been playing all along in his ear. 2Cellos, Luka Sulic and Stjepan Houser, two cellists who turned contemporary music into something really special. The musicians were Croatian and a coworker had turned him on to the duo. He could now concentrate on the music and not the panic of missing his flight. Ahead an agent was taking the boarding passes and he stepped closer. He smiled down at the woman and handed over his pass. She nodded and reached for the next, like an automaton, her face registering no emotion. Christ, a shitty job, he thought.

  As he walked down the tunnel, he could feel the glorious chilled air move over his body. It felt welcoming on his heated flesh. He used his forearm to wipe again at his face. His body was starting to cool now and the dampness around his torso felt chilled and not too unpleasant. He pulled at his shirts, dipped his head and sniffed at his armpit. He hoped his deodorant would hold up; he’d not like to offend his seat mates. He let a satisfied sigh escape; he was safe. He’d offend no one.

  At least he didn’t have to go through security again, he had high laced up boots. They were old and they were comfortable for traveling. When he’d left Boston, he’d been prepared with loose laces and had quickly kicked the boots off. Many travelers opted for loafers or clogs. Phoenix was a big man and needed quality shoes and support. When it came to clothing and footwear, he spared no expense.

  Reaching the open door of the plane, he smiled at the flight attendant and ducked his head. He walked through first class with his head slightly ducked down. His seat was just behind first class, the row which faced a separation wall. It was the only location where he could sit comfortably, without his knees becoming folded up to his chest. Once more he was reminded why he hated flying. Phoenix passed the thin barrier and looked down. There was a man sitting by the window, he too was sweating profusely. He nodded and Phoenix returned his nod.

  Opening the overhead bin, Phoenix shoved his backpack and coat into the small cubbyhole. There was a black carry-on inside which he moved and shoved. Thankfully, he had the aisle seat. He squeezed himself into the seat, but didn’t bother buckling up. There was time for that. He pulled his phone out and texted his mother.

  “On the plane, hopefully we’ll land on time. Can’t wait to see everyone.”

  His phone chirped and he received a quick acknowledgment from his mother. “So glad, we’re excited here as well. See you soon, honey. I love you.” Phoenix smiled and turned off his phone. He reached up and turned the air on, he was beginning to heat up once more. There were so many people crushed into the aircraft, the heat was beginning to build. He cursed softly under his breath. He stood back up and stripped off his outer flannel shirt and stuffed it inside his backpack. He pulled out a paperback while shoving his shirt in.

  Pulling at the undershirt, he pulled it back and forth, trying to stir a breeze inside against his heated skin. People moved around him, bumping into him.

  “Dude, move out of the way, you’re blocking us.” A younger man grouched, his face beet red. Phoenix grunted and swung back down into his seat. The young man moved passed, hitting Phoenix in the head with his bag. Phoenix narrowed his eyes but said nothing. He used his book to fan himself, trying to create a breeze. Blotting his face on his forearm, he watched as people passed by. They all looked stressed and some appeared nearly frantic. He could hear a child screaming near the back of the plane and was profoundly thankful he was farther forward.

  A young woman stopped in front of him and he looked up. She smiled down at him and nodded to the middle seat. Phoenix got up and grinned, she was a petite woman with long auburn hair, a russet red color and dark brown eyes. She had a small diamond set in the curve of her nostril. He stood, to allow her access to her seat. She had dimples when she smiled up at him and she reached up and for a moment, Phoenix thought she meant to stroke his face. Her hand went past him to the overhead storage and he felt his face flame, creeping up from his neck. He was glad his skin was a light brown and not fair. She pushed a large bag up and he helped her settle it beside his own backpack and coat.

  Standing aside, the woman slipped into the middle seat and sat down. He took his seat and smiled down at her.

  “I was seriously afraid I’d miss my flight.” She huffed, blowing a strand of crimson hair from her face. Her voice held a very southern accent. He grinned.

  “Me too. My plane landed in a whole other terminal and I had to figure out which terminal this flight was located.”

  “Oh! I know. I hate flying.” She crowed, rocking her bright head from side to side.

  “I’m Phoenix.” He grinned and held out a large hand.

  “I’m Lydia, nice to meet you.” She grinned; her small hand chilled inside his own. He noticed that her eyes crinkled nicely at the sides. Her teeth were uneven, but not in a bad way. She seemed bubbly to him and he liked that.

  “You sound like you’re from the south. Are you?” He asked.

  Laughing, she nodded. “Charleston, South Carolina. How about you?”

  “I’m from Seat
tle, by way of Boston. I’m heading home to see my family.”

  “I’m going to see my sister. I’ve never been to Seattle. She says it’s a lot cooler there.” She chirped happily.

  “It is, I hope you have warm clothing in your luggage.” Phoenix said, eyeing her light clothing. She wore light blue sports shoes, jeans, a cotton shirt with a windbreaker over that. Not warm clothing at all.

  “I do. My sister also has clothing if I need it. You know, coats, sweaters and so on. I have a nice jacket in my bag too.” Lydia announced. Phoenix was doubtful and gave her a dubious glance, eliciting a shrug from her. He’d learned his first year in Boston, the brutal and piercing cold didn’t give a damn about fashion. Besides, he wore suits every day and when he wasn’t at work, he dressed down. Phoenix and his friends also enjoyed going hiking all year round. You had to have sturdy clothing for that kind of outdoor fun, especially in winter.

  They were interrupted by the flight attendant and the instructions about emergencies with that electronic tinny voice. There was the hum of the plane that meshed with the drone of the passengers getting settled. Phoenix half listened as he looked around him. The curtain to first class had been halfway shut. He took note that the plane was filled to capacity. He wished he could afford to fly in first class, since there was more leg room as well as bigger seats. Phoenix felt as though he’d been crammed into the small child’s car seat. He tried not to let his arms hang over and onto Lydia’s side, invading her personal space. That wouldn’t bother him, but he was sure she’d not appreciate it. At least the flight was only five hours or so, and he was hoping that with a good tail wind, they’d make good time.