Through the Mirror

by D C Tullis

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

  Cover by D.C. Tullis

  Copyright © 2018 by D.C. Tullis and J.D. Tullis

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form.

  Through The Mirror

  Prologue: The Gate

  Three American military personnel sat on lawn chairs in front of a megalithic dolmen. The dolmen stood in a national park in Washington state where no such structures were known to exist. The lack of public knowledge regarding the dolmen was facilitated by the fact it exists in a small military base deep in the Washington state Hoh rain forest. As usual, it was a bleak and rainy afternoon.

  The base camp was deeply classified, and the official explanation is that it is an extremely low frequency (ELF) communications station for the US Navy submarine forces. It supposedly has buried wire antennas extending 30 miles in each direction. However, these antennas are not used because they do not, in fact, exist. But because the installation is considered very high security, it explains the top secret clearances of assigned personnel, the remote location, and the deliberate lack of road access. It is surrounded by 12 foot high chain link fences topped by a hefty supply of razor wire.

  The reality is the base camp exists because it controls access to an interdimensional gate built within the stones of the dolmen. It is staffed by Praetor, active duty military personnel that are assigned to a special, covert group. The name Praetor means “the one who goes before”, and the meaning is that this group will lead the forefront of military efforts related to threats to humanity as a species.

  James leaned back in his lawn chair and shook out one of his unfiltered Native American smokes, and lit it.

  “Hey, ugly, let me bum one of those smokes,” Brandon requested.

  “Screw you, you lazy ass weasel,” replied James. “Smoke your own.”

  Brandon grinned, “I forgot my pack in my locker. I’ll repay you double and the next round will be on me.”

  James laughed and passed over his pack.

  Serika grunted as she shifted her M-4 onto her lap. “You guys should switch to vaping, you know that?”

  James looked at her and said “Yeah, yeah, you’re not my mom.”

  Brandon laughed and said, “You wish. I know you’re into old ladies.”

  Serika glanced up at the stone dolman standing vertically in front of her and froze. “Hey guys, shut up for once! What the hell is going on down there?”

  The megalithic dolmen that they were assigned to watch began to glow with a flickering light of seafoam green, coruscating with electrical surges passing across the vertical stone uprights and the top horizontal stone.

  James looked up and immediately stiffened. A chill raced down his spine. “Behind the rock, now! Brandon blow the damn whistle now, now, now!”

  Serika had already dived around a boulder behind the lawn chairs and pulled out her RF23 radio while shouting “Breach, breach, breach! Gate incursion!”

  Both James and Brandon had joined her and Brandon was blowing sharp blasts on his whistle. The stone circle was now shining with white light and a tentacle thrust its way out of the light.

  “Oh, fuck!” Serika gasped as she racked a 40mm grenade and pulled the trigger. Brandon and James both opened fire.

  “Alert One! Alert One! Gate Incursion! Gate Incursion!”, blared through the speakers in the rapid response team ready room. The twelve person team threw down their cards, dropped their game controllers and books, and grabbed their armor. They hastily began donning it.

  “Condition Alpha! Condition Alpha!”

  “God damn it! This is not a drill,” shouted the section leader. The team grabbed their personal weapons and ran to the six two-man crewed weapon stations. The two light towers kicked on automatically, illuminating the entire camp in a veil of harsh light.

  James fired his M-4 on full auto until it ran empty, then dumped the magazine and shoved in another. Brandon had dropped his whistle and also fired his weapon. Meanwhile Serika launched her last grenade and switched over to full auto fire. More tentacles burst through the now spiralling waves produced by the gate and one grabbed her and lifted her high in the air. She dropped her gun and pulled out her MK 3 knife from its holster. Slashing violently at the the grimy tentacle, Serika wrestled with the iron force of its grip before the tip of the tentacle slowly coiled around her and divided her body in two. Her tall body was flung out across the camp.

  “Oh, shit! No wage is high enough for this!” screamed James as he loaded another magazine.

  Brandon fired his HK MP7 submachine gun over the boulder until his magazine was empty, and then he loaded another one. Suddenly they heard first one, then a second, then more GAU-19 heavy tri-barreled .50 caliber machine guns open up from the crew served positions. The rapid response teams had joined the fight.

  Duty officer Laura Jones was in the administration center and on the phone to Praetor command. “Sir, we have a Condition Alpha breach at ELF station One-Nine! Code Zulu-Niner-Delta-One!”

  “Confirming Condition Alpha breach on VLF station One-Nine. What is your status?”

  “Shit creek, sir! Request overrun response!”, she shouted into her headset, desperately attempting to keep her typically calm and cool composure.

  “Overrun response acknowledged. Provide confirmation code.”

  The duty corporal handed her the plastic folder and Laura ripped open the seal. Scanning the page, she responded, “Charlie-Charlie-Foxtrot-Seven-Two. I say again Charlie-Charlie-Foxtrot-Seven-Two!”

  The colonel on the other end of the line heard the duty officer’s stressed voice, but he also heard the sounds of heavy gunfire in the background. He replied, “Fast movers on the way.”

  Colonel Richardson opened the silvery locked box on his desk and entered a code sequence. This initiated a pre-programmed message to a drone base in the American northwest, as well as a message to Elmore in Idaho. He looked at his aide and said, “Get me a line to the Secretary of Defense. Now!”

  Drone operators at a secret location in Washington state received a message to divert two Reapers that were currently flying their standard circuits to head west to the Hoh rain forest. Two active F35’s and an A-10 prepping on the ground for a live fire exercise received the alert message from Elmore. All three aircraft shortly took off and the pilots turned their aircraft towards the Praetor base. All of these aircraft were allocated to Praetor command and were kept on standby at all times.

  The entity was now almost through the gate. Its writhing tentacles had found both Brandon and James and given them both a premature visit to the Grim Reaper. It was now reaching out to the first of the crewed weapon stations. All six stations maintained a heavy rate of fire. The two twelve person off duty sections had now dressed, donned tactical gear and gathered weapons, and had deployed in support of the duty section. The incursion was now receiving heavy fire from all three sections

  The first Reaper banked towards the base and launched one, then the second Hellfire missile directly towards the entity. But both missiles suddenly banked away and exploded in the expansive forest outside of the base as the entity flared violently in a hue of aquamarine light. The huge tentacles ripped through the barracks and the administration wing of the base camp, and also smashed two of the weapons stations, killing the crews.

  The F-35’s were on their way, but the A-10 had managed to take off first and was heading right for the base. The F-35’s were faster and passed the A-10 while it was still about five miles out. Diane Habeck, the A-10 pilot, watched them race overhead and then make their at
tack dives towards the base. Neither of them had loaded guns but they were carrying air to ground missiles assigned for the exercise.

  Colonel Richardson’s aide handed him a phone and said, “SecDef on the line, sir.”

  “Sir,” Colonel Richardson said. “Yes, we have an incursion at ELF One-Nine. I request a Bright Knight response.” He listened to the reply and then said, “Yes sir. I need the B2. I have authorized Hellfires from the drones, GBU-39s from the two F-35’s, and have an A-10 on the way, but they may not be enough. If they do not respond to a confirmed kill in…”, he looked at his watch, “Two minutes I need the B2 to destroy ELF One-Nine. Yes, sir. I understand. Thank you.” He turned to his aide and said, “Well, that’s it. Contact the B2 command.”

  The Naval Air Station Ault Field on Whidbey Island in Washington state is normally tasked to support practice aircraft carrier landings, but it also conceals a single black project B2 bomber assigned to Praetor command in a secure hanger. This B2 is modified to be able to take off from an 8000-foot runway. Military support crew tractored the B2 out of the hanger while the crew ran expedient flight checks. The bomber, named Spirit of Washington, spooled up the engines and taxied to runway 7/25.

  It was already too late...

  Diane watched the F-35’s dive and launch their air to ground missiles, and saw brightly colored flashes strike down the missiles. Then lances of zig-zagging light hit and destroyed first one, and then the second, F-35 right out of the sky. But now she was only two miles out and right on the deck, flying just above the sea of overgrown trees below her. She activated the 30mm Avenger autocannon and raced towards the flashing chaos of ELF One-Nine.

  The entity was now squeezing through the gate and was tearing the base apart. Only one heavy weapons station was still firing and the tentacles had ripped apart the duty room and administration section as well as the barracks and detention wings. Suddenly, there was a loud VRRRRRRRRRRRT as the A-10’s autocannon tore into the creature. Another loud VRRRRRRRRRRRT sent the gushy remains of dismembered tentacles flying, but the creature launched a burst of ionized purple energy directly at the A-10. Diane was hammered back and forth in the cockpit and realized there was only one way to be sure. Blinking through a mask of her own flowing blood she flew the A-10 right into the maelstrom of flaring energy and tentacles.

  ELF base One Nine was completely destroyed, with only eight survivors.

  Colonel Richardson had the SecDef on the line again. “Yes, sir. The duty officer survived and has confirmed that the entity has been destroyed. The A-10 pilot took it out, we no longer need the Bright Knight option. Yes, sir. We lost both F-35s and the A-10, all pilots lost. Sir, if you have time next week, I would like to discuss repurposing some of the guns from the NDRF ghost fleet inventory. Yes. Thank you, sir. I am submitting the pilots major Diane Habeck, captain John Wilson, and captain Denton Lewis, for the Navy Cross. In addition, all personnel of the base are submitted for Silver Stars.”

  ✽✽✽

  Jason

  Eastmouth, Maine

  “Jason,” an elderly voice called from across the marble counter.

  My gaze snapped back from Ellie’s giggling eyes to Ms. Sherban’s.

  “Sorry about that, “ I responded as I massaged the nape of my neck. “What can I get for you today, Ma’am?”

  My eyes surveyed the small line of customers behind her before I subdued an escaping sigh. Time was dragging on at a slug’s pace today, and my shift wouldn’t end for another hour. Work often dragged like that at Cuppa Joe Coffee Shop, a quaint little place nestled next to Hornes Book Shoppe. Both were right off of 5th street. There was nothing particularly unique about the shop. Christmas red walls lined with artsy black and white photos of seemingly random people and objects. It was the hipster aesthetic through and through. I half expected someone to walk in with a typewriter at any moment.

  Beyond the design, the one oddity about the place was its connection to the bookstore next door. There was a glass divider wall separating the two businesses, with a glass doorway, so I could frequently make silly faces at my best friend since childhood, Ellie, who worked next door. Long auburn locks drooped behind her shoulders, eyes swimming with an emerald hue, and she had this bubbly laugh which could always sort of light up the room. At times I wondered how we’d even become friends. I mean, I’m probably the definition for antisocial.

  “Hmmm… I’ll have a large dark roast with extra cream, a scoop of sugar, and a couple of kisses,” Ms. Sherban’s face contorted into a grandmotherly grin as she spoke. I was certain she thought her joke was bone rattling, so I humored her with a smile. It’s quite strange actually. I wouldn’t say I’m pessimistic or bad tempered by nature, but I’ve never too much liked the old people of Eastmouth, Maine. Or really, most people for that matter.

  “So the usual?” I inquired.

  She nodded gently. She had to, otherwise her ancient head looked as if it might just tear off at the seams.

  “Coming right up,” I replied before kicking my ass into gear.

  The following steps were tattooed on my frontal lobe at this point. Navigate to the glass jar with the right beans and grab just the right amount. Drop them into the grinder and then retrieve the grounds as they shoot out. Next, pour the grounds in the brewer and flick on the milk steamer...

  “I’m heading off for lunch, Jason,” called a gruff voice from the back door. “I trust you can handle this life threatening mission alone.”

  I groaned. “I’ll be fine, Joe. Have a good one.”

  Joe gave me a wink and then slid out the back door. Joe was my boss. He owned the coffee shop and still to this day gave a whimsical little chuckle every time someone questioned the pun in the name.

  I returned to my task - finalizing the mixture with a hefty scoop of sugar. “Here you go Ma’am,” I declared as I passed her the drink. “Oh, thank you, thank you, Jason,” she said as she retrieved the drink and finally headed towards the exit.

  She had only walked a few feet before she paused and turned around. “Oh, and will you please remind your uncle to stop by again. He’s just the most... charming man.”

  “...Will do,” I replied. The way she’d put emphasis on ‘charming’ sent a few shivers down my spine. After all, my uncle might be older, but he wasn’t prehistoric.

  I spun my gaze towards the remaining customers in line. “What can I get for you, sir?” I asked as my mind began to drift back off into a trance of nothingness.

  ✽✽✽

  The summer seaside air kissed my cheeks as I stepped out onto the back lot of the coffee shop. There were five cars parked out back. The wind was strong that day, and on such days it was impossible not to smell the port. The dock brought the largest section of business to the small town with its massive lobster harvest. Actually, scratch the name Eastmouth. The town should’ve been called ‘Lobster Bonanza’. It would be written in bright copper letters on some seagreen slab stationed right on the border. The subtext would declare, “Welcome to Eastmouth: If you’re passing through, be sure to CLAW your way down to the diner!”

  Not that it mattered much anyway, people rarely came to visit the town for anything other than the Lobster Fest. We have a crazy festival during July. It’s really the only time you can look around the town and see people that can’t count your family by name, which is definitely a nice change of pace. Conversely, business is so packed during July that you hardly ever have any down time. It was a coin flip situation really.

  “Hey, J,” shouted an excited voice from the other side of the lot.

  “Hey, El,” I replied.

  Ellie’s hair swayed gently through the breeze. She charged her way across the lot and gave me a light punch to the gut when she arrived.

  “Your shift over already?” Her lips curled into a subtle grin with the question.

  “Already? Jesus, you go work an eight hour shift by yourself,” I responded.

  “You always have Joe, don’t ya?” Ellie chuckled at her own re
mark.

  “I can only bear so many puns before seppuku begins to sound appealing,” I said.

  She mimicked the motion of a blade before releasing an exasperated gasp and clutching her gut.

  I kicked around the gravel at my feet for a moment and smiled. “Your shift ended yet?”

  “Started at noon and I’m working to close. You’ve got nothing on my angst right now,” Ellie replied.

  She was right, but at least they had comfy chairs at the bookstore. After standing all day, I’d kill for one.

  Ellie pulled out her phone.

  “Oh shit shit shit, I’m about 5 minutes past due,” she grumbled before pausing for a second as if to recall something vital. Her eyes lit up when she did. “I almost forgot to tell you, but remember to check out that playlist I linked to you.”

  “Obscure folk/punk of the eastern seaboard?”

  “That’s the one,” she blissfully declared.

  “I’ll get you a forty page essay on it by Tuesday, Ma’am,” I replied.

  “Bullshit, like you’ve ever turned in anything on time, J,” she yelled as she began her jog for the back door of the bookstore. And then she was gone.

  I headed towards the bike rack and unlocked my chain. It seemed pointless at times to lock it since the last recorded crime the town had faced was when some dipshit from my school, John Mason High, had spray painted an illuminati eye on the water tower. Eastmouth had such low crime that the citizens didn’t even resent the fact that they had no police department. If there was some major crime then the county sheriff would be called in, otherwise… angry mobs with shotguns had a habit of appearing.

  I kicked off and headed down the hill; passing 5th street as I went. If I went north and down the incline I would end up riding around Main St. and the port itself. The night hub, where the adults went to relieve their sailors’ woes and get smashed drunk. Every small seaport town seems to have an area like that. I continued heading west towards the train tracks, the schools, the clinic, and my house.