***

The front legs of the chair lifted off the ground as Jake leaned back. He rubbed his hands over the top of his hair, which was shaved down to nubs. His arms were tucked behind the chair’s back, exposing a thin but sturdy frame that was concealed underneath a black leather jacket along with the holster and pistol he kept with him at all times.

Gordon read over the notes from the soil sample that Sydney had typed up for him. The science was condensed to a language that a village idiot could understand. Gordon tossed the paper back onto the desk and rubbed his eyes.

“Fucking scientists. They’re all speculation,” Gordon said.

“Do you think it’s true?” Jake asked.

“All we know for sure is they found a patch of soil that will grow plants and that the soil came from Maine, specifically in the coastal region. But we have no idea who put it there or how the hell it made the trip from Maine all the way to bum-fucking-Egypt, Wyoming.”

“You want me to check it out?”

“I want you to find whoever did this,” Gordon said, picking up Sydney’s report. “I’ve had every single scientist we have working for us look at this sample and none of them, zero, nada, zilch, have any idea of how this soil suddenly rejuvenated to the point of supporting life.”

“Could get messy.”

Jake picked underneath his fingernails, flicking a speck of dirt onto the carpet. He inspected the rest of his short nails, running his thumb over the tops of them.

“That’s why I’m sending you,” Gordon said.

“When do you want me to leave?”

“Your plane takes off in thirty minutes.”

“Not much time to pack.”

Gordon extended Jake an envelope. “That’s the condensed version of Sydney’s report along with a profile of the closest community in proximity to where the sample was found. Sydney will be joining you on your trip in case you have any questions.”

Jake stuffed the envelope into the inside pocket of his jacket. “I’ll be in touch.” He made his way out of the office and glided down the hallway. He maneuvered through the groups of scientists and office personnel like a ghost. He seemed to be able to move through matter then disappear in the blink of an eye.

The shoulder holster concealed beneath his jacket contoured to the flow of his movements. It acted more like an extension of his body than an accessory. Every eye was on him as he exited the building. They knew who he was by reputation more than by name. The man with the black jacket was infamous.

Jake looked over the notes on the way to the airport. The car rumbled over the rough asphalt and swerved hastily, avoiding the potholes that plagued almost every road in the country. The last swerve caused Jake’s shoulder to slam against the door panel. His glare caught the eyes of the driver in the rearview mirror.

“Sorry,” the driver said.

The driver’s eyes fluttered back to the road, purposely avoiding Jake’s prolonged stare. Finally, Jake diverted his attention back to the papers.

Most of the science Jake read was beyond his high-school dropout academia, but whoever was behind this had been planning it for a very long time. The scout team that found the soil must have just stumbled upon a test sample. He didn’t doubt there was more out there.

The driver hit another pothole, sending Jake’s head into the ceiling from the bounce. Before Jake’s ass hit the seat, he had the barrel of his pistol against the back of the driver’s skull.

“Hit one more bump, and I’ll drive myself to the airport. Do you understand?” Jake asked.

“I’m sorry, sir. It’s just… the roads. They’re not very good anymore.”

Jake pushed the barrel of the gun harder into the driver’s skull. “I said, do you understand?”

“Yes. Yes, sir.”

Jake holstered his pistol and looked out the window. There must have been hundreds of potholes, divots, and cracks along the highway that the driver was anxiously and carefully trying to avoid. The chances of him making it the final three miles to the airport without hitting them were roughly one in one hundred thousand. Jake didn’t like the driver’s odds.