Strangers

security clearance. That's the sole reason the DERO team was used."
        "Because they could be trusted to keep their mouths shut."
        "Yes. And if it'd been nothing more than a toxic spill out there on I-80, the DERO men wouldn't have been required for the job. I mean, if it was just a spill, what would there've been to see except maybe an overturned truck and a damaged, leaking canister of gas or liquid?"
        Turning their attention once more to the newspapers spread before them, they found additional evidence indicating the Army had had at least some warning that unusual and spectacular trouble would erupt in western Elko County that hot July night. Both Dom and Ginger distinctly remembered that the Tranquility Grille had been filled with a strange sound and shaken by earthquake-like tremors about half an hour after full darkness had settled on the land; and because sunset came later during the summer (even at 41 degrees North Latitude), the trouble must have started approximately at eight-ten. Their memory blocks began at the same time, which further pinpointed The Event. Yet Dom spotted a line in one of the Sentinel's stories stating that the roadblocks on I-80 had been erected almost at eight o'clock on the dot.
        Ginger said, "You mean the Army had the highway closed off five or ten minutes before the 'accidental' toxic spill even happened?"
        "Yeah. Unless we're wrong about the time of the sunset."
        They checked the weather column in the July 6 edition of the Sentinel. It painted a more than adequate portrait of that fateful day. The high temperature had been expected to hit ninety degrees, with an overnight low of sixty-four. Humidity between twenty and twenty-five percent. Clear skies. Light to variable winds. And sunset at seven-thirty-one.
        "Twilight's short out here," Dom said. "Fifteen minutes, tops. Figure full darkness at seven-forty-five. Now, even if we're wrong to think it was half an hour after nightfall that trouble hit, even if it came just fifteen minutes after dark, the Army still had its roadblocks up first."
        "So they knew what was coming," Ginger said.
        "But they couldn't stop it from happening."
        "Which means it must've been some process, some series of events, that they initiated and then were unable to control."
        "Maybe," Dom said. "But maybe not. Maybe they weren't really at fault. Until we know more, we're just speculating. No point to it."
        Ginger turned the page of the Sentinel's edition for Wednesday, July 11, which they were currently examining, and her gasp of surprise directed Dom's attention to a head-and-shoulders photograph of a man in an Army officer's uniform and cap. Although Colonel Leland Falkirk had appeared in neither Dom's nor Ginger's dreams last night, they both recognized him at once because of the description that Ernie and Ned had supplied from their nightmares: dark hair graying at the temples, eyes with an eerie translucency, a beakish nose, thin lips, a face of flat hard planes and sharp angles.
        Dom read the caption under the picture: Colonel Leland Falkirk, commanding officer of the company of DERO troops manning the quarantine line, has been an elusive target for reporters. This first photograph was obtained by Sentinel photographer, Greg Lunde. Caught by surprise, Falkirk was angry about being photographed. His answers to the few questions asked of him were even shorter than the standard "no comment."
        Dom might have smiled at the quiet humor in the last sentence of the caption, but Falkirk's stony visage chilled him. He instantly recognized the face not only because of Ernie's and Ned's description, but because he had seen it before, the summer before last. Furthermore, there was a ferocity in that hawklike countenance and in those predatory eyes that was dismaying; this man routinely got what he wanted. To be at his mercy was a frightening prospect.
        Staring at the photograph of Falkirk, Ginger softly said, "Kayn aynhoreh." Aware of Dom's puzzlement, she said, "That's Yiddish, too. Kayn aynhoreh. It's an expression that's used to… to ward off the evil eye. Somehow, it seemed appropriate."
        Dom studied the photograph, half mesmerized by it.
        After a moment, he said, "Yes. Quite appropriate."
        Colonel Falkirk's sharply chiseled face and cold pale eyes were so striking that it seemed as if he were alive within this photograph,