The bright sun beat down on Don as he made his way across the campus, smiling and nodding at several people as he went. His suit jacket had been abandoned in his car, leaving him to roll up his sleeves in a more casual and comfortable look. A gentle breeze brushed against the brilliant green leaves, their rustling filling the air. The overall atmosphere of the small campus was so peaceful that it sent a wave of calm washing over Don as he headed up the steps and into the math building.
Charlie's office door stood open, welcoming any potential visitors. Don paused on the threshold, sharp brown eyes sweeping through the room and landing almost immediately on the slight figure of his little brother.
A pair of earphones covered Charlie's ears as he scribbled furiously on his chalkboard. Every once in a great while, he would turn and consult one of his many notebooks on his desk before turning back to the board. Rather than interrupt, Don leaned against the doorframe and took the opportunity to simply observe the young genius.
The familiar aura of energy that usually surrounded his brother was blazing in full force as Charlie sank into the flow of numbers. It seemed as though the chalk in his fingers was merely an extension of his incredible mind as it spilled symbol after symbol onto the cool black surface of the board. Don marveled that his hands were able to keep up with him, though he suspected it was just barely.
Time certainly had a way of changing a person's perspective. After only a few months with working on cases with Charlie, Don had begun to develop more of an appreciation for his brother and his abilities. They had seemed such an onus to Don while the two had been growing up. They had been a constant source of needling and ridiculing, though Don now realized that had been the case for Charlie as much as him. But after the years had slipped away, and Don was able to grow into his own with his own capabilities, he was finally beginning to appreciate Charlie for what he could do.
That wasn't to say that he didn't occasionally irritate Don. Far from it. He knew that Charlie's perception of the world was distorted from his relatively sheltered childhood, and that there were still many things they would never see eye to eye on, but after spending the last few months together, they were starting to move past that.
Don straightened and headed deeper into the room. The sunlight spilling into the office through the window gave the room a soft yellow glow, with brilliant drops of rainbows reflected off of the sun catcher nearby. The overall setting set Don into a mode of mischief as he crept closer to his oblivious younger brother.
Charlie had just turned back to his board and was tapping with his chalk, lost deep in thought, when Don suddenly seized him around the shoulders and rubbed his knuckles furiously in Charlie's scalp. Charlie let out a startled cry and dropped his chalk, trying to free himself. The headphones were knocked off of his head as he pushed his laughing older brother away and stared at him, wide-eyed with surprise.
"Don!" he exclaimed.
Don shook his head, still chuckling. "Hey, Buddy. What's up?"
Charlie tried to give him an annoyed look, but the sparkle in his eyes gave him away. "Can't you knock like normal people?"
Don rolled his eyes. Charlie, busy retrieving his chalk and headphones, missed the look. "First of all, you never would have heard me. With or without the music. Second of all, I'm not normal people."
Charlie smirked, but didn't take the bait. "I assume you have some other purpose for being here, other than giving me a hard time?"
Don shrugged. "That depends on you. What's all this you've been telling me about an equation? I haven't given you anything to work on."
Charlie's eyes lit up at the mention of the equation, and he quickly began to sift through the piles of notebooks, files, and papers on his desk. "No, it's something else. Something someone mentioned in passing. I don't remember who said it, but it was something to the effect of 'wouldn't it be nice to be able to predict aberrant behavior before the crime occurs'. That got me thinking."
Don snorted. "What doesn't?"
Charlie ignored him. He finally found the notebook he was searching for and thrust it into Don's hands. "It's still a work in progress, and I've been using some more well-known criminals and their profiles, but I think I may have the very basic, rudimentary numbers here."
Don flipped through the notebook, but all he saw was a sea of numbers, letters, and symbols. For all his genius, Charlie still behaved in a naïve manner. He always assumed that everyone else understood the so-called beauty of his numbers, and frequently had to be reeled back to reality. A small part of Don's mind wondered if Charlie even knew it.
Realizing that Charlie hadn't stopped talking, Don tuned back in. He watched Charlie explain the equations on the board that he had been working on in part amazement and part impatience. As Charlie sank deeper into an explanation that Don was certain only another mathematician could understand, he decided it was time to pull Charlie back.
"Okay, okay, hang on," he said, cutting Charlie off in mid-flow. "So you're telling me, basically, that based on a number of given variables, you can design an equation to predict who the next psychopaths might be?"
Charlie fidgeted nervously by his blackboard, his hands wringing in front of him. "I-I think so. It's still very early to tell. I mean, something of this magnitude won't be ready for even a test for a few months, but I wanted to run the numbers by you, to see what you think."
Don stared at his brother, noting the anxious anticipation in the brown depths. It took Don a moment, but he realized that Charlie was waiting for a sign of approval from him. He felt a flush of warmth inside at the realization, and he smiled.
"I don't know about the numbers, but I'm impressed," he finally said. "Do you realize the implications of what you're saying? This could revolutionize our entire judicial system! This could change the way we view crimes!"
Charlie ducked his head bashfully, grinning with pleasure at his big brother's tone. "I-I don't even know if it's going to work. I mean, there's a lot of variables to consider, and a lot of research involved . . ."
"Yeah, well, if anyone can do it, you can," Don said, flipping through the book again. "What information have you been using?"
Charlie gave a slight start and started stacking books and files on his desk. "Old cases that are public records that I pulled from the internet, some stuff on criminal profiling published by retired FBI behaviorists, some sociology resources from a friend of mine . . ." He trailed off, rustling through papers once more. "I had some more books here . . . in fact, I was looking for them earlier. I'm going to need them for the next series of numbers I want to run."
Don shrugged, dropping Charlie's notebook on the stack of books. "I'm sure they're around here somewhere. To tell you the truth, I'm amazed you can find anything in here."
Charlie gave him an exasperated look and walked by him, heading for the door. "I think I left some stuff in the storage room downstairs. I'll be right back."
Instead of waiting, Don turned and followed after Charlie. "Hey, I've got nowhere to be right now."
"Lucky me."
Don's only answer was an appreciative chuckle.
The door to the basement was just down the hall from Charlie's office. Flicking on the light, Charlie began to descend the steps at a quick pace. Don was right on his heels.
Charlie led Don down the dimly lit corridor, past several closed doors, until coming to a stop at the other end. He pushed the last door on the right open, switched on another light, and moved inside.
The room was easily the size of Charlie's office and lined with bookshelves. It looked like some sort of second library, with countless textbooks stacked tightly on every available surface. Quite a few books were stacked like towers on the floor, with no other place for them. As Charlie moved unerringly through the rows of shelves, Don took a closer look at some of the titles.
"Advanced Quantum Theory," he read out loud. "Does anybody actually take this?"
"I did," Charlie's voice echoed back from the other side of the room.
Don rolled his eyes. "Of course," he muttered.
Suddenly, the floor began to rumble beneath his feet. The shelves wobbled dangerously, threatening to tip over. Don instinctively reached out and grabbed one to steady it as much as himself, hesitating to see if the rumble would fade as it had that morning. If anything, the trembling grew steadily stronger.
"Charlie!" Don bellowed, glancing in the direction his brother had gone and back to the door. "We have to get out of here!"
"Don!" A loud crash echoed throughout the room, followed by a startled cry of pain. Don jumped into action, running around the bookshelves in the direction of the crash.
One of the bookshelves had toppled, crashing into Charlie as he had tried to make his way back to Don. The books that had been packed so tight on the shelves were now scattered all over the floor. Charlie was nowhere to be seen. Around them, the trembling increased.
"Charlie!" Don waded through the books, shoving as many as possible away from the toppled case. Spying a patch of his brother's T-shirt beneath the bookshelf, he reached down and lifted the bookcase up several inches, allowing Charlie to scramble out. He clutched his right arm to his stomach, his face drained of color. Don dropped the bookcase, grabbed his brother's arm, and began to shove him towards the door.
More shelves were wobbling now, several beginning to crash to the floor. Books and splinters of wood littered their path, making it more difficult to escape into the hall. Don's grip on Charlie's arm tightened, his mind focused on getting them to safety.
Plaster and insulation rained down on them from up above. Charlie stumbled several times, finding it difficult to keep his footing as the floor shook violently beneath their feet. He was sure that, had Don not been forcing him the entire way through the storage room, Charlie would never have found his way through the debris.
The bookcase nearest them chose that moment to fall, knocking sharply into Don's shoulder. Don cried out with pain, releasing Charlie and falling backwards to the ground. Charlie's momentum carried him forward a few more steps before he, too, fell over broken pieces of shelving.
Something large but lightweight fell on top of Don's head and landed in his lap. Don looked down in confusion, then up at the ceiling. What he saw filled him with horror.
The force of the earthquake was not just knocking them and the bookcases around; it was beginning to take its toll on the old math building. Larger pieces of the ceiling were beginning to break off as the rest sagged dangerously over top of them. One support beam broke free and swung down, landing in front of the door with a resounding clang. The sound caused Charlie to look at the obstacle to their only means of escape. Don, however, was still staring up at the ceiling.
Several more support beams were starting to loosen, ready to fall at any moment. Once they did, there was no doubt in Don's mind where they would land.
Right on Charlie.
Gritting his teeth at the sharp pain in his shoulder, Don fought through the piling debris to his feet. "Charlie! Charlie, move! Now!"
Charlie looked back at Don, still cradling his right arm. His face held confusion, but to his credit, he tried to rise.
He wasn't fast enough. Another violent shake jolted another beam free, and it fell on top of another loose beam. Dust and dirt rained down on Charlie's head.
Don's heart seized with terror, and he forced himself upright. He had only one thought now: get to Charlie.
With a sudden burst of adrenaline, Don pushed through the sea of books, wood pieces, and who knew what else. Charlie was nearly on his feet, clearly trying to make it back to help his brother. Unfortunately, that only put him directly in the beams' path, and they were about to shake loose at any moment.
"Charlie!" Don called again. "Get out of here! Go!"
Charlie didn't have time to move. The final support beam finally gave out and began to fall.
Don leaped over the last few feet and wrapped his arms around his brother, bending low to shield his little brother's body as the ceiling fell down on them. The force of the blows drove Don and Charlie to the ground, Don's body still covering Charlie's. Sharp, blinding pain exploded in Don's skull, and then he knew nothing more.
