The Last Christmas On Earth

The chief closed the call and dedicated a murderous look to Connor because he had made him worry for nothing.

"Houston," the radio croaked right after.

"We are here, what's going on?"

"Boss, what's the weather like?"

"Excellent, why ?"

"Because last time we heard, the weather was a fairy tale here too, but within ten minutes it has changed and now is rapidly darkening. It seems as if a storm was brewing, moreover all the instruments on board have started acting up," explained Major Salas. Rupert's collaborators exchanged odd looks because the last conversation between the Atlantis and the control room had taken place no more than fifteen seconds before and not ten minutes as the commander of the shuttle had just said.

"What is this, another one of your jokes?" Lee growled into the microphone and began to warm up. "We haven't seen such a clean sky for years," he resumed, "and then ..."

"Chief, look at the monitors," Connor interrupted softly.

"What's up?"

"The sky is very clear, but the image of the shuttle is continuing to lose consistency. If you look at it well, now it seems to be wrapped in a green mist ... actually, it would seem that it has been enveloped by some invisible tentacles."

"Connor, do you want to finish saying these bullshit?"

"Chief, here is Atlantis," Major Salas called nervously, "we need help. Here it started to rain badly and the instruments do not ... ggzz ... ffffrrrr we've ... lost ... ggzz ... tion. Oh God! Wha ... ... hell? ... Help !!!" shouted the Major as the image on the monitors became more and more evanescent.

"Enough with jokes! Atlantis, do you understand me? I've said enough with jokes, I've had enough! Salas, answer me! ... Salas! ..." shouted Rupert one last time into the microphone with all the breath he had, then he took off his headphones and threw them away pissed off. He let himself fall back on the chair and stared at the screen in complete disbelief. His Shuttle, an entire Shuttle, had literally vanished before his eyes and he couldn't believe it. A cold silence had fallen in the Control Room, and everyone was wondering what the external relations Officer would have told the crew members' relatives. Rupert roused himself almost instantly, his quick reflexes were one of the aspects of his character that made him a good leader.

"Nick, contact immediately the Crisis Unit and make sure the research starts immediately, within ten minutes I want at least six planes to patrol the area! If the Atlantis has impacted the water the wreckage and the oil and fuel spots will be seen miles away, if the crew has catapulted out and there are survivors we can still save them. David, contact the Navy and ask for the nearest ship to be sent immediately," he ordered. "They can't have disappeared like that, and above all, they can't have gone far. We have their path and their last coordinates, we have to find them at any cost, even if this means moving the entire US army!" He concluded, banging a gritty fist on his desk.

Relatives and journalists, authorities and onlookers, who had managed to crash somehow, had witnessed speechlessness at the slow disappearance of the shuttle from the giant screen that dominated the stage. But above all, thanks to the idea of making the public take part in unclassified conversations between the shuttle and the control tower, they had listened to the last, shocking, desperate request for help from Major Salas. Now they were all looking in the direction of the sector reserved for the authorities, waiting for some explanation. The General, in turn, looked at the External Relations Manager so that he could somehow decide to intervene, because he didn't know what to say. He answered with a vacant look, because he had not the faintest idea what could have happened, immediately after he took the phone to contact Houston. The big screen continued to transmit images of the blue sky for a few moments until someone finally decided to turn it off. Emergency personnel got on the vehicles that left quickly towards the management buildings. A man and a woman, in their seventies, were crying softly, hugging each other. After years of vain promises to their son, that time they had finally overcome the fear of flying and had put up with twelve hundred miles in an airplane to see him getting off the shuttle at least on that last occasion. "Mom, what happened? Mom, why did they turn off the screen?

Why can't we hear dad's voice anymore?" Asked a child. His mom opened her mouth trying to say something but she couldn't, she got up to take her child out of there, but before she could realize what had happened she was taken ill and ruined down from the gallery.

James rushed into the Police Station clutching a paper bag containing two milkshakes and two sandwiches, glanced at the clock above the front door and walked straight to the meeting room.

"Good morning, Mr. Robinson, did you rest well?" Agent Benelli taunted him, seeing him out of breath, as usual, he was in the mood for irony.

"Back off! It's not a good day," James replied seriously, taking a seat; he put the bag on the counter and rubbed his eyes.

"If you had called me I would have brought you breakfast at bed," the other insisted. Without saying a word, James jumped to his feet to face him, because that morning he wasn't exactly in the mood to put up with trouble.

"Hey, don't warm up! I was just joking," said Benelli, getting up in his turn to avoid being caught unprepared.

"Enough now" thundered Helen from behind the desk, "we are full of problems and you two should be ashamed of your childishness!" The two sat down with their heads down and she spoke again. "We have to get busy fast because what happened will leak out from one moment to the next and then the newspapers and TVs will hit us. The tasks remain those assigned yesterday and tonight try to present in this room concrete results in hand or it will be better if you don't show up at all! Now go."

"Do I have to inspect the woods again?" Benelli asked doubtfully, he had absolutely no desire to go again to examine and photograph the absolute nothing. Helen told herself that after what happened the night before, it was better that for the moment no one set foot there.

"No, it would only be wasted time. Today you will join Claretta and you will be looking for someone who can give us some information," she replied. Benelli twisted his mouth, because he thought she was as clumsy as Cindy and would rather work alone.

"Come on, are you all still here?" Helen said to the agents still sitting at their desks. They hurried to leave the room. James was the only one who didn't have a specific task yet and was waiting for an order.

"You come with me!" Said Helen, not at all friendly, he took the bag containing the breakfasts and followed her into her office. Helen closed the door and lowered the curtains, sat on the edge of the desk and turned off the intercom. James placed a glass and a sandwich next to her, then he chose a chair and began to unwrap his sandwich. She pushed the breakfast away and began to peer at him with her arms folded. James noticed her gesture but preferred to pretend nothing happened and sent down a couple of bites because he was hungry.

After a minute, feeling uneasy because she continued to stare at him severely without opening her mouth, he placed the sandwich on the table and looked at her, pursing his lips.

"About last night ..." he began to say, but then he found that the speech he had prepared was too childish. Not knowing how to proceed, he broke the sentence there, embarrassed as a teenager on the first date. She took a long sigh and began to remove the cellophane from her sandwich.

"So many things have happened that I don't know where to start! First of all, I'd really like to know who last night tried to burn us," Helen began, then snapped into the sandwich and James felt refreshed. Contrary to what he had feared, she was not going to face the "kiss" topic.

"I don't know, and what I understand even less is why! Was it possible that they were looking for Harry's fishing rod and for that kind of monster that was attached to the hook? "

"I don't know what they were looking for, but if they were willing to kill us and burn the whole forest to get it then they were definitely looking for something extremely important. Maybe it was something that would put us on the right track and instead we are still at the same point as yesterday. And when we succeed in tracing the relatives of the victims, if they are not the ones to trace us first, what will we tell them? That their boys died of an unknown death and that they turned into mummies before our eyes? Who could believe it? As soon as the news will be public, newspapers and TVs will stick to us like vultures, they will tear us to pieces" Helen considered disheartened, then took a long drink at the milkshake and let out a smile because James still remembered her favorite taste. James found the dimples that formed on her cheeks adorable, Helen saw that he was staring at her like a perfect idiot, and she got serious again.

"We absolutely need to find a foothold and we need to find it quickly because otherwise, we'll have no hope of solving this case," said James.

"I fully agree. And as if that's not enough, in a few days Lobster's Festival will start down at the bay and we will be busy there. And since we are few, someone will also get a double shift."

"Look, I don't have much experience in such matters, but I do know one thing for sure because they forced it into my head during the course at the Police School. If a case is not resolved within the first forty-eight hours, doing it later becomes almost impossible, and given the means and the evidence we have available, we would need a real miracle."

"That's right," Helen agreed. They finished their breakfast in silence, crumpled napkins and wipes and challenged each other with their eyes, after which they competed, as they were used to do since they were boys, to throw it in the garbage can. As always, the result was a draw and they exchanged a carefree smile, and then they started to reflect each on their own.

"As for what happened last night, it must never happen again," she muttered seriously after a few minutes without looking him in the eye.

"I agree with you, no one has to try to kill us in the middle of the night," James tried to defuse, but she didn't smile and he blushed again. "... What if we contact someone more experienced than us?" He then proposed to get out of that mess. That idea was buzzing in his head from the first moment he had put his feet out of his bed, but he had not yet dared to propose it to avoid hurting her pride. Like any honorable sheriff, Helen was jealous of her city and her cases. James feared that in front of that suggestion she would be unwell.

"Who do you think we should call?" She asked instead, surprising him.

"I honestly don't know, I just know that in America we have special units and detective agencies of all kinds ..."

"I promise you I'll think about it," Helen murmured, and he looked at her in awe because he didn't expect to find her so pliant.

"Now go, I have to get to work," Helen added.

"Yes, but what am I supposed to do?"

"Stay in the office and squeeze your brains out, as soon as they tell us something new you will check on the spot," she said.

"As ordered," James replied, standing up, and in that precise moment, Cindy knocked on the office door.

"Come in," said Helen. Cindy looked out timidly at the door. "I am sorry, but the intercom was off ..."

"Oh, how distracted I am! What's going on?"

"The guy from the workshop called ..."

"Damn, I completely forgot about him. Tell him that James will be there as soon as possible."

"He said to go ahead calmly because now he doesn't have the car anymore," Cindy informed her.

"What does it mean?"