The Riverside Incident

The swirl of colors on a city street...

Approx 2,820 words

"But why would they target a medium sized city when there's a major population center less than an hour's drive away?" Irwin wasn't talking to anyone in particular, just sort of mumbling aloud, considering possible answers. "Nuclear weapons are not easy to come by on the black market, and you would think any terrorist organization would want to get the 'biggest bang for their buck,' so to speak. Riverside has less than half a million population, but Los Angeles has close to four million. Why select this town for ground zero?"

"CEP?" a young Army officer suggested. Lt. Wade Anderson was on detached duty from the US Army Artillery Center, temporarily assigned to the Department of Homeland Security's office in southern California.

"No way," Irwin Abarr responded. "Circular Error Probability only applies to long range delivery systems. This device must have been in a vehicle or truck when it went off. The terrorists would have placed their weapon within a few feet or yards of the selected target." Recently recruited from the rolls of retired police officers, Abarr had an extensive background in security. He had supervised literally hundreds of functions and events for visiting big-wigs, including three presidents. When hired by the Office of Homeland Security, he had received additional training in Nuclear, Chemical, and Biological Weapon Target Analysis. Downtown Riverside suffered a devastating attack this morning, images of the mushroom cloud had filled the news broadcasts. He had been immediately assigned to head up the investigation.

"Perhaps it was an accidental detonation, sir? They could have been transporting the device to Los Angeles for the express purpose of achieving the greatest damage, as you say, but for some reason, the device exploded here."

"Accidental detonations only happen in fiction, Andy. The initiation sequence of a nuclear device is immensely complicated with many processes required to occur in milliseconds before critical mass can be achieved. No, there is no way this could have been an accident."

Abarr's eyes drifted to the street in front of him. Metro Police had taped off and secured twenty square blocks surrounding ground zero. His command center, a converted motor home, was parked fifteen yards away as he awaited reports from the HazMat team investigating the area of total destruction. Dead and injured people were everywhere, but the paramedics could not be allowed into the area to do their job until the radiation had been dealt with.

In the gutter at his feet, water from a broken water line nearby rapidly flowed into a storm drain. Near the edges of the torrent, debris from an overturned food delivery truck added to the maelstrom. Broken condiment bottles of mustard, catsup, mayonnaise and other foods mixed with the surface oils on the highway, creating an iridescent swirl of colors on the city street. "Why here?" Irwin asked himself again.

Marie Mendoza somehow managed to look smart and chic in her khaki work shirt and slacks as she hurried from the command center nearby. "We've received an all-clear from the HazMat team, chief. They can find no indication of radioactivity. None. Shall I notify the paramedics to begin attending to the casualties?"

"Yes, right away, Marie. Thanks for the information." He turned to Lt. Anderson, "What do you think about that, Andy? A crater as big as a football field and sixty feet deep, but no radiation?"

"It must have been a very large truck filled with explosives, Mr. Abarr. The blast radius has flattened or severely damaged buildings within ten blocks of ground zero. When we saw the mushroom cloud, we naturally assumed it was a small nuclear device of some sort, but it could have been many tons of conventional explosives."

"It would have taken several railroad cars loaded with explosives to create that amount of damage, Andy. Get the metro bomb squad into the detonation point now and see what they can find. Get samples of residue so we can attempt to identify the type of explosive. Find anything that could have been used as a trigger, if there was one. Find what kind of vehicle was transporting the explosives. We'll have experts from March AFB as well as the FBI and BATF within the next few hours. Try to minimize contamination of forensic evidence by the medical personnel and secure any trace evidence you find."

"Yes, sir," Lt. Anderson said with a snappy salute. From long habit, Abarr nearly responded before he remembered he was a civilian and deputy area chief at the moment.

"I'm going to leave you in charge of the command center, Andy. As my assistant, you're in charge of coordination and liaison for everything which happens here. There's been an operations center set up for us in the convention center at the Mission Inn. I'll get one of the police cars to drive me there. Contact me if you have any difficulties, but don't be afraid to throw your weight around if needed. I'll back you and you'll have the full force of FEMA and Homeland Security behind you."

"Yes, sir," Anderson said again, omitting the unnecessary salute this time.

Abarr located a young police officer wearing sergeant stripes and explained his position and need for transportation to the hotel across town. In minutes he was placed into a squad car and whisked away.

The incident occurred four hours ago. Response teams of many agencies were immediately dispatched to Riverside. When Abarr arrived at the Mission Inn he was stopped by members of a security platoon pressed into service from a local Marine Corps Reserve Battalion. Abarr felt uncomfortable under the muzzles of several armed weekend soldiers who might not have the experience of combat veterans with recent service in the Middle East.

A crew-cut sergeant wearing battle-fatigues approached him, one hand ominously on the holster of his service pistol. "This is a restricted area, sir. Do you have some identification?"

"Certainly, sergeant." Abarr produced his wallet and department ID. "I'm Deputy Chief for Homeland Security in the district of southern California. I suppose you're working for me, in a sense."

The sergeant surveyed a typed list handed to him by another marine then quickly saluted Abarr. "Oh, sorry sir. This is all new to us and we've just received the access roster. Let me know if there is any way my men can assist you."

"Thanks, sergeant. If you could just point me in the direction of the conference room where our operations center is set up?"

"Nelson!" the sergeant barked at a nearby marine. "Escort Mr. Abarr to the Operations Center, on the double!"

Irwin let himself be led down a corridor by a pimply-faced marine who looked as though he had not even reached an age where shaving would be a daily annoyance, but was packing a fully loaded Squad Assault Weapon nevertheless. When they reached the operations center, his escort opened the door and stood aside.

"Thank you, marine," Abarr said.

Inside the conference room, several long tables had been arranged in a horseshoe. Chairs, legal pads and pencils, drinking glasses and water carafes had been set out for thirty people. At the bottom of the horseshoe was a screen to display computer graphics for the assembled members and three television monitors were rerunning the network feed of the disaster. About fifteen people were seated already and assistants scurried back and forth from an adjoining room with messages for their bosses arranged around the table.

Abarr caught sight of Ray Warner from FEMA seated to the left of the head table. Warner stood and waved him over. "Irwin, we've been waiting for you to get back from the site. Sit here and we'll let the assembled departments bring you up to speed."

Abarr stood behind his chair at the center of the table and shouted for attention. "My name is Irwin Abarr, Deputy Chief for Homeland Security in southern California. Some of you I know, others I haven't had the opportunity to meet yet. If we can have some quiet, I'd like you to start at that end, identify yourself and your agency for everyone here, and give a summary of your actions and needs this morning."

"Ann Lederer," the pert brunette at the far left said as she pushed her chair back and stood to address the group. "I'm an assistant for Mayor Toomey who is at the site of the disaster as we speak…"

"Stumping for votes and publicity, no doubt," Ray Warner whispered to Abarr.

"The Mayor is coordinating the activities of the police and fire departments, as well as maintenance and repair teams from DWP…"

Abarr held up a hand to cease the obvious aggrandizement of Lederer's boss. "Thank you, miss. We're glad to have someone with the capabilities of Mayor Toomey on the job and I know he has the job under control. Who's got the casualty and damage assessments?"

On Abarr's right, a man of mid-30's stood and consulted a PDA in his palm. "Jim Cooper, mayor's Emergency Task Force, sir. We're just now getting to ground zero, and reports so far indicate 734 dead and about 1,300 injured, with many on the critical list. We have ambulances from Arlington, Roubidoux, Corona and San Bernardino transporting the injured to area emergency rooms.

"Schools have been closed for the day and we're using the gymnasium at North High School as a temporary morgue. That's about all I can report at this time."

"Thank you, Mr. Cooper. DWP?" he asked.

"Frank Simmons, sir. We've shut down gas and electricity in the damaged area and we're continuing to provide water and make repairs as fast as possible to aid in fire fighting efforts."

"Property damage?" Abarr asked, seemingly into thin air.

"Luke Michaels, County Planning Department, Mr. Abarr. We're fortunate most of the structures in this area have been upgraded to comply with the latest earthquake standards, yet we still have twelve major office buildings which have suffered complete collapse. At least thirty more have irreparable damage and will require demolition. When we've had a chance to consult with the insurance companies, I can give you a dollar amount for the damage. For now, we're just estimating several billion dollars in damages. Real estate in southern California is quite expensive, you know?"

"I'm sure, Mr. Michaels…" Abarr could care less about dollars. At the moment, he was both interested in lives lost and apprehension of those responsible for this carnage. He wanted intelligence estimates from CIA and FBI and was about to ask for the FBI agent in charge when the sergeant and two marines brought in a prisoner, hands cuffed in front of him. Didn't they know a man could still be deadly if he had the use of his hands?

"Beg pardon, Mr. Abarr," the marine sergeant said. "We captured a prisoner attempting to gain entrance here. He says he has knowledge how the explosion happened and claims he's responsible. We thought you'd want to know immediately!"

"You did right, sergeant. Bring the prisoner to the center here, and a chair too."

The sergeant sent one of his men to fetch a chair while he and the other marine brought the prisoner to the center of the horseshoe arrangement of tables.

"If you don't mind, sir," the prisoner said, "I'd prefer to stand."

"Suit yourself," Abarr said. "Will you start with your name and who you work for?"

"Stuart Madison, US Department of Scientific Investigation," the prisoner said.

"Department of Scientific Investigation? I don't think I've heard of that one," Irwin said. "And what is it you know about the disaster, Mr. Madison?" Abarr finally seated himself, ready to listen to some real information.

"It's been a terrible mistake, we never intended for any one to be injured. It has to do with a small calibration error. One of the tasks the government has assigned to our agency is to determine the cause of this catastrophe, which happened thirty years ago from our point in time."

Irwin gasped. Time travel? Could that be true, or was this guy just another crackpot?

"My office is built upon the site of the damage caused this morning, but more than 30 years in the future. While there have been theories as to what occurred here, there has been no positive evidence. Recently, we've been able to send small probes to explore short intervals into the past, but we've been intensely interested in what caused the explosion this morning's event.

Ray Warner whispered to Abarr, "Why waste time on this nut case, Irwin? Have him taken to a rubber room and let's get on with the business at hand."

"We don't have any answers yet, Ray. This guy is giving us answers. I want to know why a blast of such magnitude did not leave any residual radiation. Perhaps it was not a nuclear device." He continued listening to the stranger from the future. Maybe the guy was a crackpot, but there would be plenty of time to have him committed.

"To transport a probe to a physical location in a past era is immensely complicated," the stranger continued. "The first problem, you understand, is how do you point a device to last week? Or last month? In this case, thirty years into the past. We've conducted numerous controlled experiments for shorter periods of time, but for a period of thirty years… well the errors increase exponentially, and with sometimes drastic results as you have seen.

"But we did find the answer to our question, what caused an explosion thirty years in our past. We did… by accident. We knew an explosion had occurred, it's in the history books."

"And what's the answer, Mr. Madison?" Abarr asked. "How did you cause an explosion thirty years before your time?"

"Our probe is a self-powered mechanical and electronic device, Mr. Abarr. Oh, nothing as dangerous as a nuclear power source, and the power source played no part in the explosion. The error was simply a mistake in aiming, if you will, and that's why I was sent here to explain the mistake before your government tried to affix blame to a foreign power with no responsibility in the affair.

"The probe is the size of a large trunk, with a mass of seventy kilograms. What we've learned now is the probe materialized in the same space already occupied by a mass of your time. Because of the total destruction, we don't know whether that space was occupied by a vehicle, a person, or a building, but it was occupied. Since two masses cannot simultaneously occupy the same space, the energy released resulted in the total annihilation of the probe, and several blocks of real estate. When 70 kilograms of mass is instantly converted to energy… well, you people have computers, you can do the math."

Abarr felt willing to accept the explanation. It would fit the existing evidence. What was it Sherlock Holmes had said? When you have eliminated all the possible explanations, the one which remains, no matter how improbable, must be the correct explanation.

"Mr. Madison, I accept your explanation, but I hope you won't mind if we detain you for as long as it takes us to verify your story." Abarr's answer was met with disbelief from the Mayor's office, the FBI and CIA who were anxious to have a target at which to direct their vengeance.

"If you have a cell or place of detention, I will submit myself Mr. Abarr, however I will cease to exist in this time period before much longer. You can imagine the amount of energy necessary to hold open a temporal union. It is not like opening a gate and stepping through. The displacement field will be shut down within a short period and I will be yanked back to my time like a rubber ball on an elastic band. I'm sorry."

"Until that time, Mr. Madison, perhaps you won't mind remaining handcuffed to that chair. This would be something I'm sure everyone would like to see."

Yes, thought Abarr. I'd like to see it, but more than that, I want to find a way to stop our CIA from investigating this further. Now that we know what a devastating weapon time travel can be, we have to make this the most tightly controlled secret in the world. Is this what happened in Tunguska back in 1908? There was never any trace of radiation at that site either. Would anyone ever know?

No matter what the reason, it wouldn't do for any nation or self-interested corporation, with access to a research lab to develop time travel as a weapon. No, that simply would not do.

Abarr was still thinking, considering his options, his head lowered and chin resting upon his palm. He didn't actually see what happened, but he did hear the handcuffs as they fell to the tiled floor. The man from the future had vanished!