Author's note: In order to fully understand the premise of The Event, reading the information posted in my profile is essential!
The next day was one of the longest of Linda's life. Waking up in her big empty house always depressed her, but today rain drummed against her windows, casting the whole place in gray shadow. For a long time, she simply lay on her bed, trying to force herself not to think of the silence. Sheba's room was right across the hall. Normally, her daughter would already be awake and downstairs cooking breakfast. When Linda would come down the stairs, she would always find her standing in front of the TV, scoffing at the latest political report on CNN.
The rain did not let up as Linda slowly trudged her way through her morning routine. She turned on the TV to get some noise, but barely paid attention to the morning news. She made a cup of hot tea and toasted a bagel for breakfast, then forced herself to begin the long and heartbreaking task of finishing the paperwork for Sheba's transfer to a long-term care facility in London. The best experts the Council of Watchers could provide had not been able to help her. Thinking about the hopeless situation over and over again was making Linda physically ill. The only chance she held to was the hope that John discovered something.
But the morning passed, and John did not call. Linda worked in the kitchen, unable to bear going anywhere near the desk in the den. The TV remained on, passing through the news at noon and afternoon soap operas almost completely ignored. The only words Linda ever caught in that time were mentions of increased solar activity on the surface of the sun, and reports on the unusually warm weather. Linda trudged through the work slowly, simply waiting now. She would be leaving for Snowden at midafternoon to hear the next round of bad news from the doctors there.
Linda had just decided it was time to leave when her phone rang. She nearly jumped out of her skin, but was able to scramble to the phone and answer it.
"Hello?"
"Linda? It's John." The connection was a little static. Linda guessed he was on a cell phone.
"Yes! Did you find anything?" Linda felt her heart beat faster.
"I think I did. Listen, are you doing anything this afternoon?"
"I'm going up to Snowden."
"Need a ride? This is something I need to speak to you about in person."
"Are you sure? Snowden is a 30 mile drive."
"I'm sure."
Linda was very nervous about the tone in John's voice. But she agreed without hesitation, giving him the directions to her home, and waited anxiously on the front porch for him to arrive. He pulled in after about 15 minutes, driving a black crew-cab pickup. Though it was still raining, Linda did not bother opening an umbrella as she jogged to his truck and opened the passenger door. John greeted her with a half-smile, fiddling with a small GPS on the dashboard as she climbed in. It took a moment for Linda to realize he was programming in Snowden's location.
"Straight up I-19. Shouldn't be difficult," he said softly.
Linda nodded, waiting for him to start speaking. But he didn't do more than drive until they were merging into traffic on I-19 ten minutes later. Then, he shifted in his seat and pulled the tax form out of his jacket pocket. He unfolded it and set it down on the console between them.
"I was looking through that all night," he said. "Are you sure Sheba just pulled these out of thin air?"
Linda gave him a bewildered look. John nodded.
"Using the date we found yesterday as a guide, I was able to match up, in perfect sequence, every single major disaster for the past 50 years on this list. Date, and exact number of dead."
Linda gasped, clapping a hand to her mouth as she looked down at the numbers again.
"These are all…dates?!" she asked.
"There are sequences of eight numbers between every date and death count that I cannot identify," John admitted. "But it is eight numbers every time, so they must mean something."
"But…but why would Sheba worry about things that have already happened?"
John turned to look at her. He was safe in doing so, for they had come to a near traffic-jam now. Through the pouring rain, they could see flashing lights in the distance.
"Look at these," he said, pointing to the last lines on the paper. "Starting from here."
Linda looked. The numbers John was pointing at resembled a date.
"T…today?!" she squeaked, her eyes wide.
"Today," he repeated. "And four others, all in the future. According to Sheba's predictions on this paper, somewhere on Earth 81 people are going to die."
Silence fell once more. Linda could not think of anything to say. Her hands were shaking. She abruptly felt John's hand upon hers.
"I believe," he said. "And I'll do everything I possibly can to help."
Linda nodded. John released her, and turned to his GPS.
"There has to be an alternate route," he grumbled, tapping the screen. "Maybe…"
And then he froze. The GPS was showing their latitude and longitude now. Eight glowing white numbers. John picked up the paper again and stared at it.
"The rest of the numbers are locations," he said flatly. "This location."
His gaze met Linda's. Then, slowly, they both turned towards the flashing lights ahead of them. The traffic was completely stopped. Some people were getting out of their vehicles to see what the problem was. John turned off the engine and slid out into the rain. Linda followed, popping open her umbrella and quickly jogging to his side. He gently took her arm as they walked between the cars towards the police barricade. There was a man in a bright yellow vest shouting for people to return to their vehicles. John released her arm and stepped forward.
"Is everything alright?" he called over the rain.
"I'm sorry, sir, but you need to return to your vehicle," the man responded.
"Anybody hurt?" John pressed.
"A couple of injuries, but nothing major."
John turned back around. Linda approached him, lifting her umbrella to shield his head.
"I don't understand," he said.
Linda opened her mouth to reply. But at that moment, sharp screams and a dull roar sounded behind her. She twisted around, her umbrella ripping out of her hand in a sudden gust of wind. But she wasn't paying any attention to that. A massive jet airliner was screaming down out of the sky, barreling straight towards them. Smoke trailed from its engines as it tilted sideways, the wing taking out a power line and slamming into the asphalt of the eastbound lanes.
Linda's ears were full of the deafening sounds of the plane. She didn't hear John scream, or feel him throw her to the ground and spread himself over top of her. But she did feel the ground shake as the engine of the left wing impacted just yards from them. Shrapnel went flying everywhere. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw engine rotor blades fly into the midst of the paramedics. At the first glimpse of blood and body parts, she very nearly vomited.
John forced her to duck her head as the plane roared past. And then the earth shook powerfully, and all Linda could see was fire. The plane hit the open field just beyond the interstate, cartwheeled, and disintegrated in a massive explosion that sent a ball of fire spiraling into the sky.
For several minutes, there was only fire and chaos around her. She and John seemed to be in the only place in the plane's path that wasn't in flames. She could feel his arms around her, his body still shielding her. And finally, she felt him lift her to her feet.
"Come on, Linda! We have to get out of here!" he shouted.
And Linda couldn't protest. All she could do was cling to him desperately, and force her legs to carry her faster than they had ever done before. And all around them, the roars and screams echoed into the smoke-blackening sky.
By now, readers who have seen the movie Knowing should recognize the storyline. I take no credit for it. This is simply how the inspiration began. This scene, right here, which also happens to be my favorite part.
Again, this prologue isn't the meat and bones of The Event. That starts with Book I. But to know how it all began, this has to come first. So bear with me, more original storyline WILL be coming soon!