The door slid open and Sheppard started slightly. When he realized it was Parker he felt relieved and grateful … but why was Parker carrying a rifle? Parker always carried a weapon, but he had never seen him with a rifle before.
“Is everything all right?” Sheppard asked nervously.
“As right as it can be.”
“But the gun … the assault rifle …”
“It’s because things are only as right as they can be given the circumstances. How is it going out there?” he asked, gesturing to the news report playing on the screen behind Sheppard.
“The trickle of migration has become a mass exodus,” Sheppard reported. “Large parts of Europe and the Eastern Seaboard of North America—coastal areas around the world are all being completely deserted.”
The television and Internet had been dominated by images of the migration. Millions of people—families, small children, entire cities—in motion. And the exodus was jagged and cruel and desperate and deadly. The crowds travelled without shelter or food or water, and left in their wake destruction, debris, and thousands of bodies, lives cut short of the few days that remained. When times were so desperate and life so short, there was no shortage of savagery.
More than once Sheppard had thought that informing the public was perhaps his greatest mistake. He should have listened to those advisers—people like Parker—who had cautioned him to keep the truth secret. But he felt there had been too many secrets for too long. It was better for truth to live as long as it could.
“Strange, they believed you about the points of impact, but they didn’t seem to pick up on the fact that they’re going to die no matter what,” Parker said.
“There are reports of large-scale violence as groups defend their territory against those attempting to move in,” Sheppard said.
“I guess they didn’t listen to that ‘God is watching’ part, either,” Parker said.
“I imagine this is the point where you should say ‘I told you so’?”
“Not me,” Parker replied. “When you start looking to me for moral guidance you’ve reached a new level of desperation.”
“You know that isn’t true. What is true is that I just made things worse … far worse.”
“That’s not your fault either. You were just working with false information.”
“What do you mean?” Sheppard asked.
“Your problem is that you believe people are basically good. Me, I always knew better. I believe that civilization is at best nothing more than a very thin veneer. People are full of manners and follow rules, and pretend they care for their fellow man, but when push comes to shove my own grandmother would put a knife in my back.”
“Your grandmother?” Sheppard asked.
“You’ve never met my grandmother … she’s a tough old bird. That’s just how people are.”
Sheppard shook his head. “Not all. I would never do that to you, or to anybody else.”
“And that’s one of the things I’ve always liked about you. But, really, look around.”
He gestured to the images on the screen. It showed a large urban area, debris on the streets, smoke rising from buildings on fire, abandoned cars. Sheppard turned away.
“Organized suicides are taking place all over the world. Couples taking poison, parents taking the lives of their children, whole families dying together,” Parker said.
“I can’t believe it,” Sheppard said.
“I think it makes perfect sense,” Parker replied. “Better to control your death, plan it in a good way, than allow it to unfold in a bad way.”
“You’ve never struck me as a candidate for suicide.”
“I’m not. I’m planning on living. And you?”
Sheppard didn’t answer.
“It’s not just getting worse out there every day,” Parker said. “It’s getting worse in here. More and more staff, including security, are deserting.”
“And that’s why you have the rifle, right?”
Parker nodded. “A pistol isn’t necessarily enough. I think it’s just a matter of time until we’re overrun. The crowds are getting bigger outside the walls, and at the same time our forces are getting smaller and less able to keep them at bay.”
“They can’t all want to kill me.”
“No, most of them just want in. They believe that we’ve built an underground facility here that will withstand the impacts.”
“Well, they’ll be deeply disappointed,” Sheppard said. “And how long before you leave?”
“I guess the question is how long before you leave?” Parker asked.
“I don’t think I’m going anywhere.”
“Funny, you never struck me as the suicidal type either,” Parker said.
“I’m not going to commit suicide,” Sheppard said.
“Call it what you want, but whether the asteroid gets you or somebody else before that, it’s still suicide. You’re making a choice to die when you have an option to live.”
“I don’t see how I can, in good conscience, exercise that option,” Sheppard said.
“Because billions are going to die? Well, every one of those billions would kill you or almost anybody else in a second if it meant that they, or maybe their children, could have what you’re turning down. If you think about it, your choice is almost insulting to those who don’t want to die,” Parker said.
“I don’t want to die either.”
“So what is this, then? Is it all about your misguided sense of guilt?” Parker asked. “You didn’t perform the miracle, so you want to die to punish yourself?”
“It isn’t that simple.”
“Then explain it to me.”
“A captain doesn’t desert a sinking ship,” Sheppard said.
“Sure, he does. He just gets off last, and we’re basically at that stage. You know, I should just make you leave. I could tie you up or hit you on the head or put something in your tea to knock you out. You’d wake up out of here, safe and sound.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” Sheppard said.
“I could, and you couldn’t stop me. You’d even thank me … eventually.”
“But you won’t.”
Parker looked disgusted. “No, I won’t, and that’s the part that’s most annoying. It’s too late for me to have these sudden bouts of conscience. That sort of soppy sentimentality could cost me my life.”
“I’m not asking you to stay.”
“No, you’re practically ordering me to stay,” Parker snapped.
“That isn’t my intent. You’re free to go,” Sheppard said.
“You know, it would be kinder for me to put a bullet in your head before I go than to leave you unguarded.”
“I just want you to come and say goodbye, so that I can thank you for all that you’ve done.”
“Look, what I’m saying is that I’m not going to say goodbye … or put a bullet in your head. My job was—is—to protect you, and that job isn’t over yet. I always finish my assignments. I’m here as long as you’re here.”
“You can’t make me responsible for your death,” Sheppard said.
“Why not? You already feel responsible for the impending deaths of nine billion people, so what’s one extra life?” Parker asked. “Look, all I’m asking you to do is not close the door to this idea. There’s still time.”
“How much time?” Sheppard asked.
“A few days if we’re lucky … maybe five … maybe seven, but that would be pushing it.” Parker leaned over and turned off the screen. “You didn’t cause what’s happening out there and you can’t control it. They’re going to die, whether you and I live or not. Those are independent factors.”
He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a pistol, and for a split second Sheppard had a flickering thought about that bullet in his head.
“I want you to keep this with you at all times,” Parker said as he placed it on the desk in front of Sheppard.
“I’ve never even held a gun. I wouldn’t know how to use it. If I tried I’d probably blow my own foot off.”
“You’re a pretty smart guy, so I think you can figure out how to use it. I’ll give you a little lesson.”
He picked up the gun and practically forced it into Sheppard’s hand.
“Click off the safety, right there beside your thumb,” Parker said. “Do it!”
“Now, just point at the target—aim for the chest, no trick shots—and pull the trigger. Pretty simple. I want you to promise me you’ll keep this with you at all times from now on.”
“I don’t think I could actually shoot anybody.”
“You’d be surprised what you can do if somebody is getting ready to kill you. I’ll leave you to think,” Parker said, and he left the room.
Sheppard sat alone, the gun in his hand. He held it firmly, hefting its weight. He’d never held a pistol before, never even wanted to hold one. But somehow … it felt good.