ladyfirestarter | (no subject)

They all feel it at the same time, roughly five in the afternoon -- evening, this close to the turn of the winter.

At first it's no more than flickers, vague premonitions of danger too attenuated to tell them anything beyond something's wrong. It goes through the campus like ripples chasing one another through a field of grain, until everyone's slightly on edge, staff and kids alike, without being certain why.

It doesn't stop there, though, because enough of them have grown up with these premonitions and learned to trust them. Fred Towne exchanges a glance over his desk with Charlie McGee; Mark Bell says a worried word to Laura Towne; Eric VanAllsburg and Kate Welker come together to speak to Ted Brautigan. And abruptly the good-mind is linked and building rapidly, the ripples in the field reversing direction and converging on one spot like pupils contracting, and they can see --

(vans garage men gunfire glass blood SUSANNAH --)

The phone call to the Tet Corporation goes out at 5:23pm.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Hello?" It's Sunday night, on a long holiday weekend and Glen Ford was happy to trade shifts with a colleague. Glen has three kids; he'll owe Terry one this summer, let him get out to the beach.

Terry wouldn't mind switching with Glen even in normal times; but as a matter of fact, he was asked to switch, discreetly. In fact, he's been waiting for this call. There's no sign of it in his voice, even though his heart is beating quicker.

The voice on the other end of the line is tense and terse. "This is Charlie McGee at the Taos office. High priority. Can you confirm my identity, or do you need my authentication code?"

"Everything is green, Ms. McGee," he confirms, watching lights light up on his board. "What's going on?"

"About --" A second's gap, as of someone glancing at a watch. "Fifteen to twenty minutes ago, we started getting mental twitches. When we compared notes and linked, we got some visual. Susannah Toren and an unclear number of other people, in a car in what looked like a parking garage, caught in a gunfire ambush. Definitely at least one fatality."

Tightly controlled, that voice; too flat to betray any emotion.

He's scribbling notes, and checking things in computer with the other hand. "She was in the city tonight--left just before shift change. Two bodyguards, her PA and a driver. Two cars. They ought to be well on their way back to Castle Rock by now."

Tap tap tap click-click.

"Hunh."

She's speaking over the sound of tapping keys: "We've got no way of knowing when this is going to happen, it could be --"

And breaks off. "Hunh what?"

"We don't have a signal from the Castle Rock security set-up," he says. "That's worrying."

That's an understatement. "Those are underground lines."

"...How fast can you get someone out there."

"We do have trouble monitoring it," he says, trying to sound comforting and not panicked. "The lines don't want to stay connected between worlds. But we'll send somebody. I'll call somebody up the chain right now. Call back if you pick up anything else."

"We will. Go."

She hangs up without further pleasantries.

Terry hangs up the phone and whistles. Then he takes a movie theater stub out of his wallet and calls the number on the back of it, on his own cell phone.

"Sir?"

"Yeah, Terry?"

"Um. We got a call from Taos. They had a vision that confirms what you were telling me about. And. Um. I found in the computer that the lines to the house in Castle Rock are down again. That's supposed to auto-flag, but. It didn't."

A huff of breath. "Okay. Yeah, this is what we were afraid of. You're alone there?"

"Yeah. Um. Should I put this down in the log? I mean, the automated log will show a call from Taos."

"No it won't, Terry. Because you're going to get rid of it."

The voice is level and matter-of-fact. "Remember what I said; this has to be handled very carefully. If we were sure we could trust the whole security team, you wouldn't be there right now."

"...all right," he says. Anxiety bubbles in his stomach, but he begins to click at the computer.

"Good," says the voice on the other end.

"You did right to call me right away, Terry. We'll get on this immediately."

"Good night, Mr. Adamson."

Not everyone who works in this dark tower stops to notice the rose in the lobby, but Terry stops every day. He loves it, just like he loves his uniform; he is in the service of something bigger. And although it's frightening, on some level he's excited by being a part of this. He's trusted, specially trusted by someone on the Board of Directors. His loyalty and special qualities have been recognized.

On his way out, at dawn, he salutes the rose, and he sleeps the sleep of the just that Christmas Eve.

Cleanth Adamson closes his cellphone, and smiles at it. "Merry Christmas, Terry."

He pockets the phone, picks up the remote control, and turns to aim it through the doorway at the DVD player in the next room. On the screen, Jimmy Stewart emerges from frozen midsentence.

As he settles back on the couch, Jodie leans over and asks "What was that about?"

"Nothing, hon," he murmurs back, and turns up the volume a touch on It's A Wonderful Life.