The Newton Prophecies

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The roads surrounding Kendall Square were deadlocked. The Longfellow Bridge was sealed to all traffic, even trains, going to and from Boston.
         The mustang sat idle in a long line of impatient drivers, waiting for the opportunity to cross into Boston, or at the very least move past the mayhem of the Divinity Hall explosion.
         The sweltering afternoon heat radiated off the sticky asphalt creating a thick haze that filled the muggy air with the stench of car exhaust and tar.
         Up ahead, through the mishmash of cars, trucks, and SUVs, a long line of army-green military trucks made their way down Main Street from the Longfellow bridge.
         Crystal sat quietly in the passenger's seat, her eyes closed, a soft smile caressing her chapped lips. Her clothes were badly torn and thick with filth. A large chunk of fabric had torn away from her pink blouse exposing the left cup of her lacy bra.
         DiBianco struggled not to stare.
         Her soft hands were cupped together, lying on her lap, her fingers gently brushing the inner thighs of her tight denim jeans. Even through the heavy stench of exhaust and asphalt her sweet aroma filled his senses. DiBianco caught himself staring and pulled his gaze away; when he did, he noticed a small piece of paper in her hands. His eyes locked on the yellowed parchment, but then was yanked toward a new problem.
         At the intersection, ten or twelve car lengths ahead, military officers--he thought Army--were pulling people from their cars and perusing their belongings. He had to get out of there.
         Getting caught would mean the end of everything. It meant losing his love, Savanna, and likely his life. Yet what troubled him more--even more than death--was that he saw his dark theories coming to life. He prayed he would live to stop it.
         The officers made quick time of their search. There were many of them, a dozen at least. DiBianco could feel them staring. His pulse raced. An old man in a neighboring car shouted--

         "Move your goddamn asses, now!"

         Michael watched in horror while his mother got sucked under the monstrous wave of snow and ice, loosing her for a moment, then spotting her again as she was spit back. Then his father took on the beast. Michael struggled to follow them both; they tumbled down the mountain, both sucked in, then spit back, only to be sucked in again and again and again and--

         HONK!

         His forehead dripped of sweat. His palms were slick. His heart raced with a ferociousness that sent panic through his veins. His mouth was parched from breathing too hard, too fast.
         Calm down, you fool!
         He glanced around the cab, searching for something, he wasn't sure what, but knew he needed something. He searched the glove-box.
         Nothing.
         He slammed the glovebox panel closed and searched for anything that might inspire him--tell him what to do next.
         The paper, he thought.
         Crystal appeared to be asleep. Her chest rose slightly with each breath, then fell. DiBianco pried his gaze away from her breasts and glanced at the paper in her hands, and then at her face. Her eyes shifted from side to side under pinkish-blue eyelids. Her mouth moved minutely, shaping subtle words, but no sound escaped her peach lips.
         DiBianco leaned over Crystal's youthful body. Her radiant warmth absorbing into his soul and reached down. With breathless care he removed the paper from her hands, her fingers gripping a second longer, then falling softly to her lap.
         DiBianco's eyes sprung wide with amazement. A breath caught up with him and he sucked it in deeply. He couldn't believe his eyes. His skin crawled to life with goose-flesh.
         He was holding one of the stolen Newton Papers.

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