Kyle stared down the steps that disappeared into a void of darkness, even in the middle of a sunny day. So many secrets were kept in the basement and beyond, but he now felt mentally equipped to face them. Would The Crew have thought to board up the secret panic room? He wasn’t sure why they would go out of their way to do that, but wanted to see for himself.
He took the first step hesitantly, grabbing the handrail with a shaky grip. The last time he came down these steps was the day of the tragedy; he’d subconsciously refused to return to the basement since then. He still didn’t want to go to the basement, but felt lured by it.
Kyle continued one step at a time, debating turning back up and running outside, but drawing deeper into the darkness. After what seemed like ten minutes of a dragged out internal debate, Kyle reached the basement landing and flicked on the light switch. He gasped and jumped, the painting of The Last Supper seeming to stare at him as it lay against the back wall like a piece of long-lost art. Kyle giggled, realizing how jumpy he had become.
The basement remained largely untouched, becoming more of a storage room for everything Travis had moved from upstairs. Boxes and tubs piled high as far as he could see, a lone pathway present from the bottom of the stairs to the miniature hallway that connected the laundry room, bathroom, and pantry. Susan’s presence lingered as he passed the boxes of her life’s mementos.
He reached the hallway and stepped into the pantry without another thought. He came down here to learn and didn’t want to waste any more precious time being scared of the shadows that might jump out.
His hands flailed around on the pantry wall in search of the light switch, eventually finding it as his heart tried to leap out of his chest. He found the pantry had remained intact as he remembered, only with less food on the shelves.
Kyle’s eyes jumped to the back corner, adrenaline now flooding his veins, as they landed on the old chest freezer. A couple of storage bins had been piled on top, perhaps a half-assed attempt by Travis to hide the freezer. But he knew what lied inside; he always would.
The silence in the basement seemed to thicken, creating a distant buzzing sound in the back of Kyle’s mind that the brain produced for the sake of noise when none was present. His legs and arms trembled as he weaved through the standing shelves and started to slide the bins off the top of the freezer, dropping them on the ground with a light thud. He ran a hand over the top of the freezer, creating a white streak through the dust that had collected over the past few years. His fingers throbbed with anticipation as he flipped up the two latches and pulled open the cover, a gust of cold air slapping him across the face.
A couple of steaks and frozen pizzas lay across the bottom of the freezer, ice frosting the packages. Kyle removed these items, knowing anything would fall into the underground bunker below. With the freezer cleared, Kyle brushed aside some of the frost in search of the small button that released the freezer’s floor. After a minute he was convinced it was gone, removed by The Crew so no one could ever accidentally stumble across what hid below, but he found it, both relief and panic filling him in an instant.
He looked around as if someone else was in the house. Maybe Colonel Griffins would barge through the backdoor and demand he stop. He laughed at himself again, knowing no such thing was going to happen. He was alone, and a Crew member. He had every right to be here. Not even Travis had the grounds to stop him.
This is property of the United States government, Kyle thought. And that means me. This is official Crew business, Mr. Wells. Please back away from the freezer.
Kyle tried to imagine talking to his father this way and let out another nervous chuckle. “That’ll be the day.”
He pushed the button and waited. Nothing happened for about thirty seconds, and just as he was reaching in to push it again, the freezer groaned to life as if waking from hibernation. Whatever cogs were inside ground together as the freezer’s floor slowly slid open, revealing the bunker below.
The lights flickered on, blinding with obscene brightness. Kyle remembered how they each had to hang on the edge and fall down to the bunker, but he believed there had to be an easier way.
He glanced around the room, remembering he had once seen a ladder in this pantry, before recalling that it was stored in the laundry room across the hall.
Kyle closed the freezer lid and sprinted across the hallway where he tripped over a pile of clothes on the ground, but remained on his feet. He found the ladder tucked away in the corner and lugged it back to the pantry. Within a few seconds, he had snaked the ladder through the freezer opening and felt instant relief when it touched the ground far below. The top of the ladder reached just beyond the opening of the freezer’s bottom, leaning sturdily against the inside wall where it scraped frost and ice.
The perfect size, he thought, climbing into the freezer and wiggling his legs until his feet found the top step of the ladder. He gave a quick nudge to ensure it was in place before climbing down.
It felt like he had stepped into another world as he looked up, seeing the pantry ceiling at least twenty feet above. Looking up gave him the chilling flashback to the last time he had done so, his grandmother’s head peeking over just moments before she had closed the freezer and marched off to her death.
His gut twisted as the memories felt all too recent. He tried to clear his mind by absorbing the room. The wall of monitors remained in place, but they were all blank screens. Susan had maintained the hidden cameras around the property and Travis had no interest in continuing. A couple of shelves stood along the opposite wall, still fully stocked with canned foods and fruits. Kyle wondered how long those cans had been there, surely beyond their extended expiration dates.
The last time he had been in this secret room, Kyle wasn’t exactly in an exploratory mood. He had only seen what stood out as the necessities: the food, the monitors, and a couple of rifles lined up against the wall.
Today he studied the room with more attention. A small filing cabinet stood next to the rack of rifles, a key in the lock. What looked like a nightstand stood next to that, a pile of paperbacks and magazines scattered across the top. Kyle couldn’t imagine his grandmother coming down here for a comfortable place to read, but he also never knew she was living a secret life.
Kyle went through the books, seeing they were definitely Susan’s by the collection of Danielle Steele and Nora Roberts novels. He put the books back and dug into the filing cabinet, thumbing through hundreds of folders that each contained various research on the Exalls. He recognized the forms as the same letterheads he had seen in D.C., every piece of correspondence stamped with the presidential seal at the top.
Kyle kept flipping until he stopped on a folder labeled with the word family in Susan’s familiar handwriting. He pulled out this folder and sat on the floor as he read through its contents, a collection of handwritten notes:
May 7, 1998
Exalls have family members. They operate similar to us, with the elders looking over the young until they are raised into adults. Protecting family is the most sacred thing to them. They will kill to protect their family, and attack even more if someone harms their family. Many Exalls come to our planet knowing they might die and this is made clear to their families. Others come to research humanity and Earth with full intent on returning home to their families. When these Exalls are killed, revenge is immediately sought out against the murderer.
The Exalls believe in the eye-for-an-eye mentality. I killed one of their elder’s grandchildren and now they will seek to kill mine through any means necessary. I’ve prepared my grandson for life as a Crew member; it’s his only chance for survival. I just hope I’ll be here as long as possible to keep an eye on him, and pray that I’ve done enough by the time I am taken from this world. Plans are already in place to have him entered into The Crew’s protection as soon as possible.
Never underestimate the lengths they will go to seek revenge. There are no rules in their world, even though the peaceful Exalls claim t
here are. The fabric of our way of life is in constant danger, and letting our guards down for even one second can be the difference between life and death for all of humanity.
-S
Kyle scrunched his face. The notes had taken up two pages, but the stack had at least thirty more sheets of blank paper. He flipped through the pages, growing more puzzled with each blank page. Everything Susan had done was for a reason, and he didn’t doubt for a second the empty pages were another part of some elaborate scheme. He held up a sheet to the light to see if perhaps there were watermarks on the paper. None appeared, but he found the next clue on the second to last page. It was a handwritten list of subjects: Exall culture, Combat techniques, weaponry, mid-1800’s Exall research Kyle, Books, Movement patterns, Public Intelligence.
The list was bullet-pointed, but his heart froze at the sight of his name.
It’s a clue, he thought. She knew I’d be here one day.
The goosebumps returned to his arms and back as he realized Susan had made plans for him that stretched beyond her own life. Even in death, she was still working to conquer the Exalls.
The list of subjects matched the headings on some of the files in the cabinet, so Kyle quickly flipped through them until he found the one labeled mid-1800’s Exall research. He opened the file and rummaged through its contents.
At first, he found nothing but pages of actual research, much of it written out like a textbook with never-ending paragraphs, and the occasional small photograph squeezed into the corner. The file had about forty pages of this same text, but Kyle came across the secret as he reached the end. The page was designed to look like the rest with big blocks of text, but this one in particular had a small line dividing one half of the page from the other, causing Kyle’s eyes to jump to the second half where he read his name again, this time in typed fashion:
Kyle, it’s impossible for me to know where you are in your career with the Exalls. You could be just starting, or you could be forty years into this life. All I do know is that you will one day find this message. I wish I was there to help you learn this new lifestyle. The biggest lesson I’d say you need to know is that the work never stops. Don’t ever let your guard down. Even when we are in times of “peace” we are still vulnerable. Use the downtime of peace to learn as much as you can and advance your plans for keeping the world safe.
There is a secret door in this room and it leads to an even bigger secret. I’ve kept a live Exall in my hidden chambers since 1992. She’s still in there, tied down to a table to never escape. You’ll find more notes in the room about my findings, but this is the reason I’ve come to know so much. I call her “Sandra”, and she’s very kind. Sandra has been tied to my table for over two decades and has grown to understand she’ll never be free. I took this matter into my own hands, and I know you’ll do great in continuing my work.
Just go over to the left of the TV monitors and stand there for a few seconds, facing the wall. There is an eye recognition device setup that you can’t see. I scanned your eye when you were a baby, but it will still work.
The special paragraphs ended, blending right back into a fresh block of text about an Exall attack in Europe, complete with a gory picture of a decapitated man outside of the Roman Colosseum.
Kyle snapped the file shut and returned it to the cabinet. He slammed the drawer closed as his heart rate picked up. He rose on wobbly legs as nerves wrecked his body, and crossed the room to the wall of monitors. The wall didn’t show a trace of any sort of opening, but he planted his feet and bulged his eyes as much as he could, as if that helped the recognition device read it easier.
After twenty seconds, the lights in the bunker flickered along with the dozen screens, and a faint humming sound came from the walls as an opening slowly appeared.
How big is this place? Kyle thought as the humming stopped, revealing a four-foot tall black hole in the wall. Perhaps it was the terror running through his veins, but he thought he felt a presence ooze out of the dark opening.
A live Exall? For more almost thirty years?
Everything he had learned about their thirst for revenge made him wonder just how bad of an idea this was. The air coming from the darkness was cool against Kyle’s face, but nothing chilled him to the core more than when he heard a woman’s voice speak out, shaky and hoarse.
“Kyle?”
22
Chapter 22
A few miles west of Arlington provided the cover the doctor and Brian needed. They had left the restaurant shortly after the doctor’s motivational speech to the Exalls’ newest recruits, and he drove like a hellbent psychopath out of town.
“We’ll have a few days to wait,” he told Brian. “Until then, we need to hide like we’ve been doing all this time.”
This led them to Fountainhead Regional Park, a space of 2,000 acres that surrounded the Occoquan Reservoir. While there was plenty of visitor activity near the reservoir, the surrounding woods provided enough cover away from hiking trails or camping sites.
Dr. Klemens drove them into the park like any other person entering through the wooden archway that welcomed its visitors. They were still in their stolen pickup truck, which helped them blend in—others with their tents, picnic baskets, and fishing poles sticking out the back of their trucks.
“Maybe we’ll go hunting tonight,” he said out of the side of his mouth.
Brian shook his head. “No more. I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me what’s going on.”
“I’m going to tell you everything tonight. Now that we’re here, there’s no turning back—not that you could, even if you wanted. ”
That was the first verbal threat the doctor had made toward Brian. He’d had plenty of thoughts of running off in the middle of the night, but something within insisted he stay. Since undergoing his transformation, he didn’t know if it was his own gut instinct, or the doctor forcing his thoughts through the mental hijacking he was capable of.
“Good,” Brian said. “We’ve been hiding for four years now, and I’m sick of it. I hope you have a plan for us to get better.”
The doctor threw his head back and howled. “Get better? This is the best we’ve ever been, don’t you feel it? We never get sick, hungry, or tired. What else can you possibly want?”
Brian thought of his mother, alone and drowning in sorrow ever since he disappeared. Shortly after his transformation, he had kept a close eye on his house to check on his mom, finding she often arrived home from work and went straight to bed, judging by the fact the lights inside never turned on. He knew she was in there, crying and screaming for him to come back while he stood outside, a hopeless gray-skinned monster. He could have knocked on the door and he knew she’d welcome him in, gray skin and all.
But he didn’t trust himself. The bursts of rage hit him as randomly as bird shit landing on your shoulder during a walk in the park. There was no buildup, no warning, just an internal flick of the switch and he became a crazed killing machine.
The doctor, on the other hand, embraced his inner lunatic, always switched on and ready to “convert” any innocent humans standing by. The scene at the bar in Colorado may have been the first group attack they carried out, but they had both taken a handful of individuals over their four years together.
“Just get me back to normal,” Brian finally said. “I don’t care what you decide, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life like this.”
“There is no way back, young man,” the doctor said. “I suggest for your sanity that you let go of that thought.”
“Don’t lie to me. We became this way; we can go back.”
“It doesn’t work like that, but if you want to hold on to that false hope, be my guest. Perhaps we can turn your disappointment into more anger.”
“Why are you so angry? What did the world ever do to you that you need to kill innocent people?”
“I think you forget that I’m not a human, Brian. I’m not from this planet. I killed this doctor and drank
his blood. Now he and I are one. I have his knowledge and my knowledge. The doctor and myself are quite the dynamic duo.”
“I know you can help me.”
“There’s no way back. I infected your bloodstream when I was posing as the doctor, and it will be in you forever.”
“What are we here for, then?” Brian demanded, deciding to change the topic.
The feeling struck Brian like a punch in the face. They were in the woods, and he now had the urge to find an animal and squeeze the life out of its throat, maybe even bite its head off.
“Stop it!” Brian screamed, the sensation of an invisible presence settling into his mind, pushing aside his own conscience. “Get out of me!”
“Relax, kid,” the doctor said calmly. “It’s just me. Don’t resist. I need your mind in a dark place before I tell you what it is we’re doing all the way on the east coast.”
“Get the fuck out of my head!”
The presence inside his skull filled up to the point he thought his head might burst right open, spilling his brains on the ground to blend with the fallen leaves and sticks. He’d never had one, but imagined this is what a migraine felt like.
“Please let me go.”
“I can’t. You’re too important to what we’re trying to do. Do you remember shooting that old lady, Susan? Can you still feel the gun in your hand as you watched the bullet fly out and drill her in the back?”
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