Barriers

by Patrick Skelton

  “Why are you so interested in being my therapist?”

  “Because it’s my duty as co-pilot to make sure the captain is one hundred percent present.”

  “You know the story, Collin. My husband and his crew made an emergency landing in the western hemisphere eleven years ago. All the bodies were recovered except his. That’s about it.”

  Collin put a hand on her wrist. “What did Elliot say in the message he sent you?”

  Jillian jerked her arm away. “He said he had information on Tyler that we’d discuss after we got to Ellis Three.”

  “Sounds promising.”

  The console beeped.

  A series of numbers appeared.

  “Elliot just sent the landing coordinates,” Collin said. “I’ll input the landing sequence and alert Space Traffic Control.” He gazed at the flickering white light radiating from the Fold in the distance, then turned to Jillian. “And now for my favorite part.”

  “And what would that be, Collin?”

  “Rocketing through that big crack in space and jumping six hundred light years in three seconds. What a rush.”

  She rolled her eyes and positioned her hand on the throttle.

  _____

  At 2:27 a.m. Mountain Time, Space Traffic Control received Zathcore’s transmission. The message followed protocol and was not out of the ordinary. It confirmed Encounter Five’s established landing coordinates and coincided with the flight itinerary on record with Space Traffic Control.

  As the data feed reached the server room three floors below, Vance Tremont’s decryption algorithm detected the concealed coordinates in Zathcore’s transmission. As agreed with Zathcore, he began making the appropriate adjustments in Ellis Three’s satellite feeds. When Zathcore’s crew landed, images captured from orbiting satellites wouldn’t reveal Encounter Five’s actual location. Instead, they would transmit visuals captured from a previous excavation that corresponded with the bogus coordinates.

  Vance finished an hour later and cracked his knuckles. The easy, routine portion of his assignment was completed, but could he carry out the difficult part— selling out his longtime friend, Jillian Catterton?

  With one phone call, he would sever their relationship permanently. They’d been friends since college, even dated a few times. It didn’t work out obviously, but she resided in the Phoenix Barrier and they’d kept in touch over the years. He would never forget the time she let his daughter stay with her while his wife was in rehab for nine weeks and he was working double shifts. Jillian Catterton was the most compassionate, trustworthy human being he’d ever met.

  Unlike him. A complete Judas.

  But what could he do now? He’d made a deal with Kendall Rouhoff months ago. His little girl was back in his life and she’d made a full recovery. Now it was his turn to hold up his end of the bargain.

  Vance picked up the phone with a lump in his throat.

  14

  Nathan propped the ladder against the broken deck steps and motioned Bennie to come down.

  Bennie scowled. “You’re sure this thing won’t tip? The nearest hospital is two hundred miles away, remember?”

  “I’ve got a firm hold. Take your time. You’ll be alright.”

  Bennie descended at a snail’s pace, then followed Nathan to the shed underneath the deck.

  “There it is,” Nathan pointed as they entered. “The second generator and cabling.”

  Bennie fingered the loose cable bundle. “What’s wrong with having a backup generator? Aidan was up here alone in the wilderness for months. You can’t be too safe. If one went out, he would need the other one.”

  “But why the separate cabling? Wouldn’t dad just disconnect the main cable from the generator he’d been using and re-connect it to the backup if he needed to?”

  Bennie shrugged. “Backup cabling, perhaps?”

  “We’re missing something, Bennie.”

  Bennie removed his ball cap and rubbed his head. “Like what?”

  “Like the ladder we just used. Never saw it in my life. Dad kept a stepladder in the pantry, but that’s it.”

  “Your point?”

  “I think dad was too consumed with whatever he was doing to repair the steps. Still, hauling a taller ladder here for that purpose alone seems counterproductive.”

  “You’re positive Aidan didn’t have one here previously?”

  “Positive. Dad was a decent handyman, but he swore he’d never take up a project that required more than a stepladder. Too dangerous and no hospitals nearby if he fell. He flew in contractors from Anchorage whenever roof repairs were needed. However…”

  Nathan darted out of the shed and grabbed the ladder.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Seeing what dad was doing on the roof.”

  He leaned the ladder against the side of the cabin. “Keep it stable, will ya?”

  “Be careful, Nathan. I’m sure it’s slick up there. If you fall and break your neck, this investigation is over.”

  “Do we want answers or not?”

  Bennie held the ladder as Nathan climbed. He reached the top and scanned the steep, angled roof, then the flat portion covering the deck.

  “What do you see?” Bennie hollered.

  “Nothing yet.”

  Nathan crawled backwards down the roof, cautiously, until reaching the level deck overhang. He stood on the wood shingles and brushed wet leaves off his sleeves and blue jeans. Cold wind squalled across the inlet, flogging his cheeks. He pulled his hat tighter down over his ears, then glanced down at his father’s yellow Cessna, swaying beside the dock. They hadn’t looked there yet, but they would. He made a mental note to grab the registration in the glove compartment before leaving. His mother might want it for her records. And he was curious about something else.

  “Well…?” Bennie said.

  Nathan examined the surface of the roof. Something near the edge caught his eye. Loose cabling.

  He went over and picked it up…about six feet in length and similar to the cabling in the shed.

  He crouched and inspected the rooftop…indentations in a few of the shingles.

  “How much power would a long-range communications tower need?” Nathan hollered at Bennie.

  “A good amount.”

  “Enough for a second generator?”

  “It’s feasible.”

  “And why might dad need a long-range tower?”

  “There’s a good chance Aidan’s people are on the other side of the world.”

  “Dad was obsessed with the Ellis Three Crisis. Maybe he was trying to communicate with Black Ghost.”

  “That’s a possibility,” Bennie said. “One thing’s for certain—Aidan wasn’t about to let Alkott blow up that spacecraft with a missile he’d helped design.”

  Nathan studied the indentation in the shingles. Something wasn’t right here. “And who do you propose took the tower—Chairman Alkott’s men?”

  “That’d be my guess,” Bennie said. “They wouldn’t want the police finding it and wondering what Aidan had been up to. He was supposed to be depressed and suicidal, not involved in a covert operation.”

  Nathan picked up the cable and showed it to Bennie. “But overlooking a suspicious cable like this?”

  “Looks like Alkott’s men did a sloppy job cleaning up,” Bennie said. “Like the toilet lid they left up.”

  “Both are indicative of someone in a hurry, Bennie, not of a detailed abduction cover-up.”

  Bennie glanced at the ground and shook his head, then he looked up and straightened his ball cap. “What are you suggesting, Nathan?”

  “I think dad found out Chairman Alkott’s men were coming for him. He scrambled to retrieve the communications tower, the canned goods, and whatever else he needed to survive off the grid. An accomplice picked him up and flew him to safety, wherever that might be. He didn’t have time to perfectly arrange the crime scene. Alkott’s men would have. I think it also means dad doesn’t want to be found.�
�

  Nathan made his way across the roof to the ladder.

  “Hold the ladder with both hands,” he instructed Bennie. “I’m coming down.”

  Nathan went to the edge of the roof. As he was awkwardly attempting to anchor his foot on the first step, he glanced in the direction of the woods behind the cabin.

  He stopped.

  “What is it?” Bennie said.

  “I swear I saw…”

  “A bear? How big? Brown or black?”

  “Bears don’t wear Royals baseball hats.”

  Nathan scrambled back up the roof and leaned against the chimney. He surveyed the surrounding forest. Several dozen cabins were on the opposite side of the inlet, occupied off and on by fishermen and vacationers. He swore he had heard a plane fly over while they were inside thawing out, but thought nothing of it at the time. He assumed it was an outfitter swinging by to winterize and lock up a property for the season.

  Bennie held up a pair of binoculars. “Here. Use these.”

  Nathan climbed down to retrieve them. “Do you always carry binoculars?”

  “Out here I do, and you should too.”

  Nathan clambered back up the ladder and surveyed the forest through the binoculars.

  “Well? Do you see anything? Is it the same guy you saw in San Francisco?”

  “Still looking.”

  “Looks like Alkott’s thugs might be getting concerned with our snooping,” Bennie added.

  Nathan continued to survey, adjusting the lenses. “Remind me again why we should make that assumption?”

  “It’s obvious they’re following us, Nathan. And it validates that your father is in deep trouble and needs our help.”

  “And how do we know this guy works for Alkott?”

  Nathan refocused on the area half a mile out where he thought he spotted the Royal’s baseball hat. He stopped scanning and refocused the lenses. “Found him. He’s way out there…crouched beside a bush with binoculars.”

  “Same guy?”

  “I think.”

  “And now he knows you see him?”

  “There he goes. He’s bolting.” Nathan slung the binoculars around his neck and raced down the ladder.

  “What are you doing?”

  “What do you think?” Nathan tossed the binoculars to Bennie and took off for the woods.

  “Watch out for bears, Nathan!”

  He waded through the thicket for a good twenty minutes, then stopped to catch his breath. His heart pounded. What would he do if he caught up to him? Tackle the man and demand answers? Knock his lights out if he didn’t cooperate? He hadn’t used his fists on another human since the seventh grade…though he’d come close with Ian’s doctor.

  And what if this man had a gun?

  He scanned the forest again. Fallen pines cluttered the path ahead. The man was nowhere in sight.

  What now?

  He trudged on for thirty more minutes, trying to track the man who was seemingly stalking them. He spotted an opening in the trees. A docked red seaplane came into view in the distance. He’d reached the other side of the peninsula.

  The seaplane’s propeller sprang to life, buzzing like a swarm of bees.

  Nathan ran, but tripped and stumbled. The plane floated away and took off. His lungs burned as he watched it ascend and shrink to a red speck over the Gulf of Alaska.

  15

  Nathan stood on the dock beside Bennie and his obese suitcase, frigid Alaskan wind battering their faces. Giff was on his way to pick them up and he’d made it clear they’d better be prepared to take off the minute he hit the water. Fine with Nathan. He was ready for a hot meal and heating that didn’t require refueling a generator in the middle of the night.

  “Good thing I caught a glimpse of that red seaplane’s N-number with the binoculars as it took off,” Bennie said, cinching the drawstrings of his hood until it swallowed every inch of his neck and forehead. “There should be no problem tracing the owner. I’ve got plenty of aviation contacts who can help.”

  Nathan watched his father’s old yellow Cessna bob in the water. “We haven’t checked out dad’s plane yet. I want to grab the registration.”

  “Make it fast, bud,” Bennie said. “I’m sure there’s not much to see if the hazmat crew did a proper scrub.”

  Nathan opened the co-pilot’s door and peeked inside. Bennie was right. The interior of the plane was spotless. According to the initial reports from the authorities, his father’s radioactive remains had caked the windshield, front seats and dash with thick black soot. Now the glass was crisp and clear, and the beige vinyl seats were without the slightest blotch. The local sheriff dispatched a decontamination crew the following morning, and his mother received a ten-thousand-dollar invoice two days later. A day after that, forensic lab results confirmed a positive match of his father’s DNA in the buckets of radioactive ash collected from the plane.

  Bennie popped his head in beside Nathan’s. “Yep, just as I suspected. Not much to see.”

  “How easy is it to acquire a molecular separator?” Nathan asked, looking under the passenger seat, then in the cracks to the right and left.

  “Piece of cake if you have connections. What did the suicide note say again?”

  “Not much,” Nathan said, climbing over the co-pilot’s seat and into the pilot’s seat. “It said he loved his family and he wished there was some other option, but he couldn’t handle deteriorating in front of us. It wasn’t how he wanted to be remembered. He wanted to die with dignity, and he didn’t want anyone crying over his corpse in a casket—the shell of a man he’d become.”

  “Anything else?”

  “A verse from the book of Job: He has cast me into the mire, and I have become like dust and ashes.”

  “Now that’s some sobering poetry.” Bennie climbed into the co-pilot’s seat. “Adds credibility to a spiritual man’s suicide. Chairman Alkott did his homework.”

  Nathan glanced at the floor around his feet, where the authorities had found his father’s weapon of choice lying in a pile of ash. “So, a molecular separator discharged in here…how does one of those things work exactly?”

  “Just like it sounds—it disrupts molecular cohesion in biological matter.”

  “Who uses them?”

  “Biophysicists mostly, and never outside of a lab.” Bennie opened the glove compartment and handed the registration to Nathan. “You wanted this?”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  Nathan looked it over, front and back.

  No handwriting.

  Bummer.

  According to his mother, there were two copies of the registration, and one contained his father’s handwriting. The morning he left for the cabin he was in the back office of the greenhouse talking with someone through his laptop when Nathan’s mother had entered. He scribbled something on one of the copies, closed his laptop and jammed both copies into his old Bible. Right before exiting the office, he kicked the rug aside and opened the vault built into the concrete floor. He removed one of the copies from the Bible. “No sense in bringing both with me,” he told Nathan’s mother. “Big Bird only needs one to soar legally.” He put the copy into the empty vault and changed the ten-digit keypad combination, as he was in the habit of doing weekly.

  Nathan’s mother was certain the vault contained nothing but the duplicate registration to the Cessna 172. A week before leaving for Alaska, his father had removed everything—deeds, wills, titles—and had them stored in a safe-deposit box at their bank. He reminded her that she often forgot the combination to the vault, and it was better if the bank had them in possession, in case something happened while he was gone and she had to get to the documents. That was fine with her. Aidan changed the combination so often there was no way she could keep track of the passcode from week to week. That was the last conversation they had before he kissed her goodbye and left for the airport. He’d cleared his office in the back of the greenhouse, so that whatever he’d been working on was in the two duffle
bags hanging from his arms.

  Nathan folded the registration and put it into his coat pocket. “The Alaskan authorities said the molecular separator was set to maximum discharge and it was traced back to a lab in Los Angeles. The lab had reported it missing several months previously. What do you know about the settings?”

  “Not a whole lot—I’ve never used one.”

  “I pulled up an internet video several weeks ago,” Nathan said. “A lab tech was using a molecular separator to dissolve a tumor in a rat’s brain. Apparently on a very low setting because the rat didn’t disintegrate into a pile of soot.”

  “You need to watch the one where a lab tech uses it on a chimp at maximum setting,” Bennie said. “It’s quite a fireworks show.”

  “I think I’ll pass.”

  “Two seconds of blinding light, then poof…nothing left of the chimp but radioactive powder.”

  Nathan put his hand on the throttle. It used to feel grimy, but not anymore. The decontamination crew hadn’t missed a thing. “Tell me, Bennie, how does a molecular separator set to maximum not annihilate itself or anything else in close proximity?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Humor me.”

  “In layman’s terms, molecular separators are configured to disrupt biological matter only, and the tip must make physical contact with the specimen. Theoretically, any form of organic material positioned more than a foot away would survive the discharge, though I wouldn’t want to put that theory to the test. We’re talking about lethal levels of radiation after a maximum setting discharge.”

  “So that’s why the authorities found dad’s shoes and clothes in here, but no body?”

  “Right. And it makes Aidan’s method of suicide look consistent with the setting used.”

  Nathan sat back in the seat, fingers tapping the yoke. “Dad’s wedding ring…the authorities never found it with his clothing. Wouldn’t that have been left behind if he was wearing it?”

  “Yes…another slip-up of Alkott’s men I guess.”

  “How do you think dad’s DNA ended up in the ashes?”