Doomsday

spreading. A mass exodus of the campus was underway. For the most part it was orderly, but a few people were pushing and shoving.
“And so it begins.” Diana shook her head in dismay at the stupidity, then turned and snatched up her briefcase. She gave her office a last look. Her framed diplomas, her keepsakes, her files—she must leave them behind. She felt no regrets. She had known this day would come and been one of the few to plan for it. Now her foresight was paying off.
The hallway was jammed. Diana stayed close to the wall until she emerged from double doors into the bright glare of the afternoon sun. The sky was clear save for a few pillowy clouds, and birds were warbling. It was hard to believe that on the other side of the world, a holocaust raged.
Vehicles jammed the parking lot exits. Tempers were short, and curses were hurled back and forth.
Diana went to her reserved parking space. She strapped her briefcase onto the back of her bike, donned her helmet, and straddled her rocket. The throb of power brought a grin. She didn’t bother with the exits. She went up over the curb and zipped across a knoll to a side street and from there wound her way to 101. She headed west, looping around downtown Phoenix until she came to 303. Here the traffic was lighter. She pushed it, weaving in and out between the cars and trucks as if they were standing still. Horns blared and fingers were thrust at het. All she did was grin.
Presently Diana arrived at a small airfield west of Wittmann.
It had an equally small clientele, which was why she had picked it. The major airfields, she imagined, would be disasters.
No one was in the front office. A cup of coffee had been spilled on the desk and several drawers were open.
Diana went to her locker. She took out the pack she always kept ready. Opening it, she rummaged inside, verifying its contents. Then she hastened to the side of the field where her Boena and several others were lined up in a row. She was about to climb up on the wing when someone said her name.
Harry Pierce came walking around the tail of the plane next to hers. He held his jacket over his shoulder, and his tie was undone. Sweat stains moistened his white shirt. “Diana! Perfect timing. You’re just what I need.” “How’s that, Harry?”
“I’d like to hitch a ride. I’ve been having engine trouble. They promised to get right on it, but now it’s too late.”
Diana patted her aircraft. “This isn’t a car, Harry. I can’t drop you off anywhere you like.”
“I know, I know.” Harry grinned and regarded her aircraft as if admiring it. “This little hummingbird of yours is a real beaut.”
“That’s not what you said the last time I ran into you. As I recall, you called it a girlie plane.”
“Well, you are a girl. And the pink stripes are a bit much.”
Harry patted the wing. “All fueled, are you?”
“I always keep it fueled, Harry.” Diana raised her leg to climb on.
“So you won’t give me a lift? Say, to Kansas City? If it’s out of your way, I’ll gladly pay you.”
“I’m sorry, Harry. I can’t. I have somewhere to be.”
Overhead, an Air Force jet thundered across the heavens, streaking to the east.
“What I wouldn’t give to have one of those babies,” Harry said with a grin, then turned serious. “Look. No more beating around the bush. War is about to break out, and we both know what that means. I need to get to Kansas City, either with your help or without it.”
“You’ll have to find someone else to take you.”
“Or I can fly myself,” Harry Pierce said, and attacked her.
New York City
Deepak Kapur stared at the image on his computer screen and blurted the first thing that came into his head: “Shiva is unleashed.” He pushed his chair back and bowed his head. “So many lives,” he said softly.
His cell beeped and he answered without looking at the caller’s number. “Yes?”
“Mr. Kapur, this is Becca Levy, Home Communications.
Your password, please.”
“Those silly passwords,” Deepak said.
“If you have a complaint, sir, you may take it up with Mr.
Carpenter. But right now, please, I need your password.”
“I’ve seen the news. I know I need to get there.”
“Please, Mr. Kapur.”
Deepak sighed. “My password is Yama. Appropriate, don’t you think?” “Sir?”
“In my religion Yama is the lord of death. He rips souls from corpses and assigns them to what you. would call hell. He will be very busy these next weeks and months and perhaps years. I hope he has some vacation time saved.”
“Sir? Was that a joke?”
“Or a philosophical conundrum. Take your pick. But now that you have the password, do I win the kewpie doll?”
“Mr. Kapur, you’re being morbid. Are you all right?”
“The world as we thought we knew it is coming to an end. So of course I’m all right.”
“Very well, then. You’re at work right now, I take it?” She rattled off the address and the floor.
“That is correct.”
“Then I’m instructed to tell you to remain there. Mr. Slayne is on his way and should arrive within the next fifteen to twenty minutes.”
“Who?”
“Patrick Slayne, sir. He’s head of compound security. He also lives in New York, and Mr. Carpenter had dispatched him to personally see that you reach here safely.
All those considered crucial to our end-of-the-world operation are having security sent to bring them in.”
“What? Preferential treatment? Why wasn’t I told about this before? I’m not sure I like being treated this way.”
“You’re special, sir. Your computer expertise is critical. Please be ready for Mr. Slayne. He will identify himself with his password.”
“Which is?”
“Mighty Mouse.”
Deepak laughed, then realized she wasn’t joking. “Wait.
You’re serious? What sort of man picks that as his password?”
“It wasn’t his first choice, sir. Mr. Carpenter said his first choice was too silly and asked that he change it.” “Don’t keep me in suspense, Ms. Levy.”