A Reckoning in Red

24 Hours to Thunderbolt

Manny jumped from the plane, arms wrapped around his precious work. He broke from the group and climbed the ravine toward the road.

A battered pickup screeched to a halt above. A man in jeans and a sport coat jumped out, scanning the wreckage below.

Manny wheezed up the embankment, lungs and joints on fire. He coughed violently, choking on red dust. Handkerchief up. Better.

Approaching the man—early thirties, maybe—he rasped, “I need to get to the terminal.”

The man slipped his phone into his pocket. “Are you talking to me? I’m not an EMT. You need to be checked out.”

“I’ve got a connection to D.C.” Manny gestured behind him. “That plane? I was on it. We landed. Nobody’s hurt.”

The man glanced toward the wreck. “Still—people need help.”

Manny studied him. Colorado University sticker on the truck. The voice. The face.
Familiar.

The man turned away and jogged toward the wreck.

Manny cursed under his breath. No keys in the truck. No matter. He’d walk if he had to. He turned toward the terminal.

Where had he seen that man before?

Then it clicked.

David Mitchell.
The professor from Boulder. The one who got him ejected from last year’s AAS conference.

“Bah! Arrogant little fool,” Manny muttered. “Thinks he knows everything.”

The same truck roared up again, grinding to a halt in front of him.

David jumped out and grabbed Manny’s arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Manny shook him off. “I just survived a crash caused by your so-called comet—which, as we both know, isn’t a comet at all. But we don’t have time for that debate now, do we?”

David recoiled. “Do I know you?”

“This isn’t some pretty sunset,” Manny snapped. “You didn’t expect the tail to hit the atmosphere this soon, did you? And now we’re all breathing it.”

David paled. “I—I didn’t expect this.”

“No. You dismissed me last year—threw me out. And now it’s your mess.”

David looked away. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“There’s always something.” Manny tapped his case. “But the public needs to hear it. Today. They’ll listen—to you. If you stop lying.”

He saw it then. In David’s eyes—a fracture. Doubt creeping through.

“Maybe you believe me now?” Manny said softly. “I tried to warn you.”

David’s mouth opened, then closed. His eyes flickered—conflicted.

“Get in the truck, old man,” he said at last. “I promised the captain I’d get you back. Though why anyone cares about one crazy goat is beyond me.”

Manny snorted. “Forget the captain. This dust? It’s from your discovery. Why didn’t you tell them the truth? It’s not a comet.”

David’s face twisted—annoyance shifting into dread. “Do what you want. I’m going back to the observatory.”

Manny stepped in front of the truck, pounded the hood. “You’re not listening! It’s too late for that. We need to get to the conference—now. They’ll listen if you speak.”

David looked past him, silent.

Manny grabbed his lapels. “Come clean, or people die. They deserve the truth.”

David flinched, voice cracking. “This isn’t data. It’s chaos—emotional, irrational, terrifying.”

Manny patted the case. “I have the evidence. I’ll take it to that reporter you spoke with yesterday. He’ll listen.”

David scowled. “Are you threatening me, old man?”

Red dust fell again, silent and fine as ash.

“You can still help,” Manny said. “Communications will go down soon. We have to reach them before it’s too late.”

David stared at the briefcase. Then, finally, a long breath.
“Get in. I’ll take you as far as the terminal.”

Manny slid into the truck, clutching the case to his chest. He shut the door with a grunt of finality.

“Good,” he said. “Because if we don’t make it in time—everything changes today.”