The Scorpion Room

By Arnold Ulrike

In the middle of a sprawling, merciless desert, a family is torn apart by natural disaster. From the ashes, a hero rises, called upon to save our world. Thousands of miles away in the killing fields of Bosnia, a killer stalks the innocent. His singular purpose: to serve his shadowy organization and their earth-shattering goals. No one knows how much damage a new scientific breakthrough could do to the world order if it fell into the wrong hands, but they plan to find out.

Lily Cienfuentes felt the call to STEM early and as a force of nature herself she harnessed scientific research to break barriers. She's uncovering secrets of our world to try and save us, but what she found instead could cost her everything, including her life.

The Balkan Wars of the 1990’s unleashed genocidal forces of human barbarity unknown in Europe since World War II, exposing Europe’s promise of “Never Again” as an empty gesture. This is the forge of the killer known only as Epp. He is coming.

A science fiction thriller and psychological drama set in a sordid world of the near future, historically accurate settings highlight forgotten conflicts in the heart of Europe. The future of nation-state hostage-taking using new technology reflects the frightening geopolitical reality of our current world. Crime and politics mix to contort climate research into devastating new technologies. The question remaining: who will be left standing in the end?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Arnold Ulrike
• Release date: Aug 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9798218057480

Arnold Ulrike

I am an author, reader, musician, marksman, a consumer and purveyor of curiosity. You can find me in a Ford on some dusty road somewhere with nobody else around.

Book preview

The Scorpion Room

Arnold Ulrike

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

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Prologue

He stumbles over the jagged escarpment. In the rain, it’s not easy to traverse this ledge with its sharp, loose rocks. Doing so while hauling 160 pounds in a black canvas bag -well, that’s the stuff of nightmares. His lungs feel like they are on fire, but that pales in comparison to the stabbing pain in his left knee. A lifetime ago he tore a few crucial parts inside there while on a job in Malta. One boot in front of the other, he tells himself, his shoulder starting to burn from the heavy nylon strap slung over it. Then, as he’s trying to place his left foot on a boulder, the bag sways and whacks his right hip. It throws him off enough that his ankle gives way. Sharp, searing pain courses up through his nervous system.

He drops the bag —nothing breakable in there anyway— and sits on the boulder to check the damage. Wincing, he grabs his ankle and slowly starts to rotate his foot. Painful, but he still has full range of motion and there are no jagged bits. It’s sprained; not great, but it could be worse.

Back to work now, he slings the heavy canvas bag over his aching shoulders, the added weight turning his lower leg into a funnel of lava. He estimates one more kilometer to his objective. That Americans stubbornly insist on using the English system, when even the English don’t, never ceases to amaze him. He trudges forward.

Passing over the red tape, that announces he is entering a dangerous area, he sees his destination. The rain is pounding and dark clouds hover close overhead. Visibility is scant. No matter. He’s studied enough satellite photos of the area to know where to take his baggage.

Why do Californians continue to build their houses on hillsides that wash away?

He crouches at the edge above a recent landslide disaster and peers down the new cliff it created. The possibility of being swept away is not lost on him, but he’s chosen his footing carefully. Besides, if Mother Earth sends him hurtling to his death now, that qualifies as shit happens.

Time to address the bag lying next to him. He pulls nose plugs from the cargo pocket in his pants and pushes them up his nostrils. He unzips the canvas. Taking his multi-tool from his belt, he carefully slices open the heavy plastic inner wrap. He puts his right boot firmly on the strap, squats down and puts his arms under the bag. With one smooth motion, akin to that of a powerlifter, he heaves the bag up and out away from his body, sending its contents on a ballistic arc over the cliff. The strap snaps the now-empty bag back to the earth in front of him. He quickly zips it and bundles it under his arm. Gingerly, he turns and starts to head back, now free of the added weight. Epp’s journey is not done.

Chapter 1

Lily wouldn’t have been her first choice. Sharing a name with a flower seemed so dissonant for someone who could use words like dissonant. Some decisions aren’t yours. She headed to her office on the West side. It was a pain in bad weather but she wasn’t about to give up her east side scene from 1st to 3rd. Besides, hopping on the M79 wasn’t a hardship as far as commutes went.

Lily was proud to be lead scientist and program chief for their electrostatic division of the Center. Her dissertation on electromagnetic shifts during haboob formation in the Southwestern United States was never destined for The New York Times Bestseller lists; it did, however, point towards her future as a pioneering climate researcher willing to stray away from the herd and towards the esoteric. Recruited out of her PhD program, Lily’s ascendence was never in doubt, but the pace certainly was.

When recruiting Lily, the Center’s lead climate researcher was brutally honest and admitted that if she accepted, she would start in some windowless basement closet with a computer, file cabinet, and little else. She accepted. Her unwavering determination came from her mother Lucia.

Twenty-five years prior, Lily’s mom was at the top her of list of favorite people. Numero Uno, La Jefa, Citizen I. Since she turned seven last month, Lily considered herself no longer a child; a kid, yes, but not a child. That word was for kids who still ripped pages out of pop-up books and couldn’t ride roller coasters. Lily read real books and could and rode the tallest, scariest coasters. That’s how Mom became Number I. She took Lily on the coasters, and to the arcades, and jump parks. Dad was great too, but Mom was more fun. Dad was too serious and never jumped on the trampolines with her. He did make a great hug-buddy though. Mom was not as squeezable.

Lily and her parents were sitting atop a mesa with a campfire on one side, overlooking the vast West as the sun receded and thunderstorms built. Those days Dad regularly travelled to New Mexico for research projects. Left unspoken were the topics of said research; his wife Lucia knew it had something to do with the nuclear program but didn’t ask questions.

The lightning began sparsely, and far away, but —as so often with storms out West— the build-up was quick. Soon a line of storms arced across the horizon and the flashes became near constant, a roiling cauldron of light and fire. Lily was captivated.

Dad! Lily exclaimed. How far away is that?! It looks like one hundred miles!

He laughed, Out here that’s actually possible, but I’d guess maybe 40 miles and moving this way.

Wow! I bet I could fly that far. And with that the diminutive Lily spread her arms out, furrowed her brow, and began running in wide arcs, imagining herself daring the storms with her twin-engine jet.

"Wooooossshhhh!"

Her father chuckled, and then cast a wary glance at the approaching storm front.

Her parents, thinking of the small metal trailer they would be sleeping in, were less enthused than Lily. Her father knew that being surrounded by metal could be safer than open ground when lightning neared. A metal structure could mimic what’s known as a Faraday Cage which directs electricity around the outside of the structure rather into the interior. Nonetheless, with storm clouds towering thirty thousand feet and churning with giant raindrops, hail, wind, and lightning, the little brown trailer looked puny and vulnerable.

When the Schlesingers had picked their camping spot, they did so based on the stunning views of the basin below, the wide-open spaces of the West as beguiling to them as they were to millions of people before.

George was a pragmatic, thrifty man. Although he made plenty of money, particularly for the low-cost Southwest desert, he greatly preferred saving to spending. Naturally when it came time to splurge on a camping trailer for the family outings in New Mexico he chose a tastefully equipped used model. What George didn’t realize was that rubber and plastic hoses have significantly shorter lifespans than the manufacturer warranty when in relentlessly dry, hot conditions.

That night, the Western summer storm front began to turn to what George thought of as apocalyptic. The squall line pushed huge, billowing brown clouds of dust and mud, blotting out the landscape. Constant flashes of light steadily advanced, momentarily revealing huge, towering storm clouds. An unseen, dispassionate entity was blacking out everything else in the family’s view, as if the end of the world was marching toward them while huge, extraterrestrial guns flashed in the air.

When the wind picked up and sent their campfire flickering, and lightning could be seen streaking through the air, George and Maya finally shuttled the mesmerized Lily off to the trailer.

The family walked up the two-steps inside. It had a single gas cooktop, a compact refrigerator, and a small counter. The dining space encompassed a two-person bench and a single chair. At one end of the trailer was a full-size bed tastefully made with beige sheets and a white Southwestern-style comforter, and, on the other end of the trailer and past the battery compartment, was a single twin-size bed covered with pink flowers and two well-loved stuffed bunnies.

Lily, can you set the table please? George asked

Yes Daddy.

Lily shimmied her tiny body around the dining chair to the bench, lifted the top and pulled out three sets of silverware, placing them on the small plastic table. She crawled under the table, deftly swinging to the right and reaching into the closet next to the fridge for three plastic dinner plates, setting those on the table.

Lucia pulled three burger patties out of the fridge while George grabbed the cast-iron skillet and turned on the gas burner connected to the trailer’s external propane tank.

Behold! A culinary masterpiece awaits!! George proclaimed as he poured canola oil into the pan with a dramatic flourish.

Lily snickered and hugged her dad from behind.

Carbonized beef-like substance, whew, can’t wait. Lucia replied.

This earned a glower from George. From outside, thunder reverberated through the trailer.

The smell of well-cooked burgers filled the tiny home. Lily grabbed the buns and cheddar slices and her mom pulled out pickles, mustard, and ketchup from the fridge. George turned off the burner, flipped the patties onto the bottom buns, then took a huge bag of Ruffles and shook out generous piles of chips onto everybody’s plate.

Crack! Boom!

The sound of rain pounding the metal trailer escalated and echoed in the small space.

Lily grabbed her daddy’s arm.

"It’s just a storm mija. No te preocupes," Lucia reassured her daughter.

When George turned off the burner in the trailer, it didn’t occur to him to march out into the escalating storm and twist off the propane valve on top of the tank, which would have shut off the tank flow. That meant that the yellowing plastic tubes leading into the trailer were still coursing with flammable gas, now slowly leaking out of tiny cracks in the brittle plastic which had formed during the bumpy ride to the campsite.

Around the tiny table with the faux wood veneer, the small family sat and clasped hands.

Lily, will you please say grace?

Lord, thank you for this food, my mommy and daddy, and bless our home. Gracias, Amen.

Amen, Lucia and George said in unison.

They started eating.

Thank you it’s delicious, Lucia touched George’s arm.

My pleasure hon. If I had some proper chef’s equipment I could…

Shhhhh, Lucia put her fingers across his lips and smiled. George smiled sheepishly back.

I like the chips dipped in ketchup! Lily added her culinary opinion.

The storm passed, the flashes become less frequent, the thunder softer. Within minutes, the constant roar of fire and fury in the skies above their little plot of New Mexico transitioned into a calming, nurturing shower.

Smores! Lily yelled so loudly and unexpectedly her mom actually jumped in her seat.

"No mija, es muy tarde," Lucia replied.

George glanced out the window. It’s wet, muddy, and the fire’s out, Lily.

Lily sat back down with furrowed brow and crossed her arms.

C’mon, let’s get into pj’s.

Lily slowly slid butt-first under the table, then crab-walked to her bed, grabbing the small yellow dinosaur duffle that held her clothes.

You too mister! Lucia pointed at her husband and winked.

Okay, okay.

While her parents changed, Lily crawled under the covers of her pink haven and squeezed Jambles and Jingles, her fluffy bunny companions. Lucia walked over, bent down, and kissed her daughter on the cheek.

"Buenas noches mi conejita."

Goodnight Mommy.

Lily buried her head under her blanket, snuggled her bunnies, and closed her eyes.

Lucia turned out the overhead light, then crawled over her husband, already in bed. She liked sleeping next to the tiny window at the far end of the trailer, with a view of the night sky. Stars always held a special fascination for her. Growing up in New Mexico, she could see an infinite number —beyond comprehension— but the sight never grew stale in her mind.

George leaned in for a kiss, their lips gently touching, Goodnight my love, he said.

"Mi amor," was her reply.

It had been a beautiful day. They closed their eyes.

The rain began to subside to that pleasant rattle of a post-storm soaking. Few sounds in nature are more soothing than rain drops hitting a metal roof, like ocean waves gently crashing on a beach.

The world exploded.

Lily woke awash in blinding white light. A sound louder than she could even imagine deafened her. She started screaming, her tiny lungs barely able to fully process the demands of her brain.

Moments before and from thirty miles away to the east, sixty thousand feet high up in the dying cumulonimbus cloud, a huge surge of energy —rare, positive-flash lightning— had moved westward —and down. It travelled at a speed the human eye cannot register. Like an ancient predatory bird diving to the earth to kill its prey, the lightning moved relentlessly, remorselessly, down. It struck the tiny metal-framed trailer the Schlesingers called home and carried a power derived from primordial forces larger and more complex than humans have yet been able to fully comprehend. The wheels under Lily’s side of the trailer exploded, overwhelmed by the force of electrons trying to make it into the earth. The windows of the trailer all disintegrated simultaneously, and a pure, white light entered, signifying the end of all things.

Electricity surged down by her parent’s side of the trailer and found a small crack in a plastic tube. The lightning strike heated the air to thirty thousand degrees, many times hotter than the sun’s surface. The propane gas still flowing inside that plastic tube instantly ignited. As the valve leading to the propane tank was open, the flames travelled both into the trailer along the interior of the tube and the opposite direction, into the tank itself. Thousands of pounds of pressure per square inch immediately tore apart the sturdy metal shell of the tank as a pressure wave and fire expanded out in all directions.

The thin metal skin of the trailer was no match for such a force.

The overpressure hit Lucia first, lifting her into the air. As she was momentarily levitated, a roughly three-inch-by-four-inch piece of metal, moments before a part of a propane gas tank, now a glowing, hot, sharpened steel blade -entered her abdomen just above her right hip. The shrapnel continued up, slicing completely through two coils of Lucia’s intestines, then exploding a kidney. It kept going