Precipice: The Beginning by Kevin J. Howard Page A

anything else, she wanted him. How did he know? Because it was his creation. The dream had started out like most of his life, behind the desk in his office. But in she walked, wearing black slacks and a tight white dress shirt. As soon as she’d started to unbutton the God Damn phone rang, ripping the woman from his mind and scaring the hell out of him.
    “Who is it Wilbur?” His wife of thirty years moaned, falling back asleep instantly.
    “Hello?” Wilbur was startled, seeing by the alarm clock that it was just after three in the morning.
    “Dr. Peters?”
    “Yes, who’s this?”
    “You are to go downstairs and get in the car.” The man on the other end of the phone was direct.
    “What car?” Wilbur jumped at the knock on the front door. “Who is this?” His tone moved from shaky to angry.
    “What’s going on?” Elvira rolled onto her side to face him, her eyes widening.
    Wilbur held up a hand to shush her. “Why is someone at the door? Where am I going?”
    “Presidential order 2138, sir.” With that given, the man hung up.
    “What’s wrong?” Elvira was getting terrified, fearing someone close to them had died.
    “I have to leave,” Wilbur spoke slowly, going over the orders in his mind.
    “Leave? Now?” Elvira sat up, gripping his forearm tightly until she got some answers. “Are you having an affair?”
    “Don’t be a moron. You know I’ve got E.D.” Wilbur tapped his crotch with agitation. “It’s classified.”
    That was all he had to say. Years of being gone for long hours, sometimes days at a time, had trained her for these moments. But he’d been retired for ten years. She couldn’t fathom what could be so damn important to wake up a seventy year old geologist and ask him to rush out the door.
    Wilbur rolled out of bed, pressing a hand to the small of his back as he stepped into his slippers. The floor was so very cold at these early morning hours. He looked to Elvira and shook his head, letting her know this was not his idea. There was another series of knocks at the door, loud and urgent. Wilbur cursed under his breath as he shuffled into the walk-in closet and stood before his limited wardrobe, all hung up and organized by what matched what. As brilliant as he was, he could not grasp the concept of style. Elvira had taken it upon herself to organize his closet and spare him the embarrassment of his own design. Fine by him. One less thing for this old man to worry about. Should he go with the “business briefing” look or the “field researcher?” Since they’d bothered him so late in the morning he decided to be casual, grabbing the “field researcher” ensemble of jeans and a grey sweatshirt.
    Wilbur blew his wife a kiss and told her not to worry. Probably just some concerns over the seven point three Utah was hit with yesterday. Living just outside Las Vegas, they’d felt a tiny bit of the rumble themselves. He gripped the handrail tightly as he made his slow decent down the stairs. The knocking was getting rather annoying.
    “Yes?” Wilbur said with annoyance as he opened the door.
    “Dr. Peters, if you could please come with us.”
    Wilbur nodded, grabbing a trench coat off the rack as it had started pouring. He locked the door behind him, moving slowly behind the young man with the impatient knock. He held the back door to the black Lincoln town car open for Wilbur, shutting it with a single hard push that shook the car. Wilbur didn’t much care for this young man, watching him run around the back of the car to hop in. His hair was slicked back without a single misplaced hair, his black suit free of lint. Worst of all were the dark sunglasses. Presence was once thing, but who the hell needed dark sunglasses before the sun came up? Wilbur just shook his head with disapproval, buckling himself in as the boy took off.
    “Where exactly are we going?”
    “Our destination is just outside Provo, Utah.”
    “So it is about that earthquake.”
    “I’m not at