I stared out along the road, finally beginning to move. As I walked, I tore open the plastic bag and started eating strips of jerky. I spaced them out, walking under the stars and thinking about my predicament.
By the time I only had two pieces left, a big old semi slowed as it approached me. Finally, it hissed to a halt.
I looked up as the passenger-side window rolled down. A good old boy with an “As” baseball cap stared down at me. “I stopped at Stan’s,” the redneck said. “They say Roy gave you some jerky. He’s okay like that. Then you said you weren’t going to steal their bikes because of that.”
“Yeah,” I said, showing him the bag. “That’s what happened.”
“Well hop on in, mister. I don’t want you stealing my rig, either.”
I looked away, suddenly emotional at the thought of strangers helping me. I don’t know why it hit me like that. I’d expected every hand to be turned against me.
“Thanks,” I said, climbing up into the cab. “Where’re you headed?”
“Reno,” he said. “Does that suit you?”
“Sure does,” I said. “Do you have anything to drink?”
He jerked a thumb at the back of his cab. “Bunch of bottled waters. Help yourself.”
He put the semi into gear and began pulling away from the side of the road. I reached in back and grabbed a couple bottles, twisted a cap and guzzled the first bottle dry.
I was down and out. Kazz and Philemon had my Guard ship and likely had my girl too. But I wasn’t going to let them get away with that. I had no idea how I could stop them or what they planned to do. But I knew that I was going to think of something.
That meant I had to use my head instead of acting like a fool. I stared out the side window. I wanted to kick Kazz’s ass so bad I could feel heat against my knuckles. I wanted to wipe the smirk off Philemon’s chimp face.
“You’re not crazy, are you?” the trucker asked.
“What?” I said.
“You’re not gonna turn on me, are you?”
I realized I might have gone into a murderous trance thinking about those two. I had to mellow out for the moment.
“Not a chance,” I said, casually opening the second bottle of water and taking a drink. “I know what having a person bite your hand feels like.” I shook my head. “Yeah. I know what that feels like, all right…”
-4-
Two days later, I left Reno on a hog of my own, wearing a motorcycle helmet, a leather jacket and shit-kicking boots.
I’d been doing a lot of thinking. I was still thinking as I roared down Interstate 80.
The trucker had given me a lift to Reno. He’d even bought me a sandwich in Gardnerville. I’d shaken his hand and taken my leave with gratitude.
I was lucky that I’d gotten a room in the Peppermill before meeting Kazz. I stayed there a lot, actually. That’s where the Neanderthal had met me, in a bar in the casino. I liked the Peppermill because it had an interesting feature. There were huge video screens throughout the hotel/casino, showing interesting places and fauna from around the world—an elephant in Kenya, a Himalayan Mountain sunset or morning from the bay in Hong Kong. I used to wander the Peppermill, studying the various videos and then I’d had Rax teleport Debby and me to one and then another of those places.
Even though I’d used the Peppermill a number of times, I had been extremely careful in my use of credit cards.
After destroying the Starcore six months ago, I’d spoken in person to the U.S. Secretary of State. I’d even brought him aboard my underwater Guard ship. I figured someone in the U.S. government should know the truth. He was supposed to be my quiet contact with those in authority. He wasn’t supposed to tell others about me, though.
Even before the treachery with Kazz and Philemon, I’d begun to believe the Secretary of State had blabbed to the wrong people.
Anyway, I used the credit card from my room in the Peppermill to make a few purchases. I’d also eaten until I felt bloated.
I left Reno on the hog with a wallet fat with bills.
So far, no one had spotted me as the guy with the Galactic Guard ship. I’d tried to keep a low profile after seeing the Secretary of State. I’d been regretting that encounter for some time.
Now, it didn’t matter.
The wind blew against me as I roared along the freeway. I had a plan. It was the best I could come up with under the circumstances.
Six months ago, Kazz and Philemon had either been a part of the Starcore or the Polarion’s crew. What did that tell me? What did I know about them from that fact?
Well, it meant they had likely been frozen in stasis in the Greenland complex for thousands of years. A Min Ve hell-burner had taken out the complex six months ago. Anyway—long ages ago, I’d learned—a godlike Polarion had built a crystal entity, using the strange living crystals from Rax Prime. That had been the Starcore. The Starcore had been at war with the Polarions throughout much of the galaxy. Eons ago, while on the run, the losing Starcore had come here and done something weird that seemed to have put it in suspended animation while out of phase with the rest of reality. The same had been true about the complex in Greenland.
Six months ago, I’d seen Neanderthals and Homo habilis in stasis tubes in the Greenland complex. I’d also seen frozen Polarions. During the fight on Earth, some of the Neanderthals and hominids had fought with the Starcore and some with Argon the Polarion.
The point was that Kazz and Philemon likely knew some interesting and ancient facts. They’d first landed on Earth eons ago. It would make sense that they knew about places and events from that distant era. Was it possible there were other ancient alien strongholds on Earth? Did those two need the Guard ship to help them reach those places?
The one complex had been under the ice in Greenland. The Starcore had been out of phase in Nevada.
All of this I’d carefully recollected while ruminating in my room at the Peppermill. Now, I could go to the formerly out of phase place in Nevada. The White Tower—which had been a spaceship—had lifted off from that point. I would go there eventually. Yet, I had a feeling that if the Secretary of State had blabbed, dangerous people in the American government might know about Far Butte, Nevada. Surely, those people had already scoured the place.
Therefore, I would wait to go there until I’d first eliminated all other possibilities.
I had a different destination in mind. Six months ago, the Min Ve privateer had teleported aliens to the Station 5 Western Sunlight facility in Nevada. The Min Ve had needed the solar collecting station’s energy.
At one point during the struggle six months ago, a five-hover group had raced across the Nevada desert in an effort to attack Station 5. The Min Ve in his starship had rained orbital rods onto the hovers, killing the hominids. The privateer had also rained a uranium rod that had burned the area thoroughly.
Even so, I wanted to find that place and scour the burned landscape. Maybe I could find some alien tech lying around, something that would help me.
It was worth a try, because I didn’t know what else to do. Unfortunately, finding that location would be difficult, as I only had a general idea of the area.
I sped south, watching everything through my newly purchased sunglasses. From time to time, I scanned the sky. Would Rax help Kazz and Philemon? Would the U.S. government have drones in the air out here?
I hadn’t spotted anything so far, but that didn’t mean anything. Worse, a tingling feeling along my neck suggested I was already under surveillance. The farther south I traveled, the stronger the tingling sensation grew.
I twisted left and right. There was Nevada desert scrub all around me, and that was it. I seemed to be alone. Yet in my gut, I guess I must have known that wasn’t really the case.
-5-
That evening, I parked the Harley under a lonely old tree. I’d left the freeway some time ago as I’d headed across the sandy landscape.
I sat with my back against tree bark. It was chilly out here. I
debated making a brush fire but finally decided against it. What was happening on the Guard ship? Was Debby okay? I hated this not knowing.
Thinking about her, I dug the earbud out of a pocket and inserted it into an ear. I waited for Rax to say something. He did not. What were Kazz and Philemon up to?
I slept fitfully that night. Coyotes howled in the distance, waking me several times. I saw falling stars streak across the incredibly clear night sky. Each time one got too big, I wondered if aliens had returned and were dropping an orbital rod on my head.
I woke up stiff in the morning. I drank a bottled water and ate a bruised banana and a package of almonds. I sure could have used a cup of coffee.
The bruises on my face had already healed. If the Neanderthal had broken any ribs with his kick, those injuries had probably healed as well. I felt fit, strong and ready for action.
I raised my hands toward the heavens, stretching and then bent over to touch my toes for a count of three, shook it out and repeated the process, this time reaching down for a count of four.
I had to find something today. My gut told me that time was critical.
I scanned the morning sky. It was clear, with not even so much as a cloud overhead…except that for a second, a microsecond, I thought I saw something wink high above. I waited for another wink, a reflection off a flying surface. It did not occur.
Had I just seen a Predator drone?
I did a few more stretches, unscrewed the gas tank and filled it up from my extra container, realizing that this wouldn’t get me very far. I’d have to find a station pretty soon.
Finally, I kick-started the hog, climbed aboard and slowly began moving through the scrubby desert terrain.
***
I noticed another wink of something in the sky at 1:23 in the afternoon. The tightening between my shoulder blades had gotten worse before that. Now, I knew something was up.
Still, I couldn’t do anything about it, so to hell with them.
At 4:19, I came upon a strangely burnt area. My heart rate increased. Could I have found the place?
That was fantastic navigation on my part. I’d only seen the hover-pads once on a screen. Yet, I’d remembered enough and had been crisscrossing territory for about five and a half hours now. There were low-lying, rounded hills on either side of me.
With growing excitement, I puttered toward the center of the burnt area. Finally, I stopped and shut down the hog.
The silence was powerful. I could practically feel the Min Ve watching again from orbital space. I’d seen the starship explode, though. The alien privateer wasn’t up there. I’d saved the Earth from extraterrestrial interference.
Getting off the bike, I began to crunch over brittle ashes and ground. The orbital attack had occurred six months ago. Shouldn’t something have grown here by now? Had the Min Ve poisoned this tiny spot of Nevada?
“Hello…”
I crunched faster, striding to a twisted fused thing in the blackness.
I stared at it for a while without really knowing why. It couldn’t be dangerous now, could it?
Finally, I bent down and picked it up. It was heavier than it looked, some kind of fused metal. I turned it over, but it seemed like nothing more than a hunk of junk. And yet…why was it so heavy?
I retraced my path, putting the hunk of metal into a saddlebag. I walked around the hog in a widening corkscrew pattern.
At 5:46, I found something at the edge of the black area. I noticed that my hand shook as I picked it up. Either I was more tired than I realized or—
I inhaled sharply. This was a communication device. It even had some type of alien script on it that looked like Sumerian cuneiform writing.
For those of you who don’t know, Sumerian cuneiform was triangles with lines and squiggle marks. Ancient Sumerian priests used a stylus to press the markings onto mud rectangles. The mud dried, and one had a clay tablet. Sumerian cuneiform was supposedly the oldest writing in the world. Did it mean something that this ancient comm device had what looked like Sumerian cuneiform writing on it?
I was betting it did.
I turned the device over several times and finally tried what looked like a switch. The device hummed. Lights blinked on.
I couldn’t believe it. My longshot—
My head snapped up as I turned to the left. Three specks moved in the distant sky. They seemed to be headed directly toward me.
I turned my back to the specks, using the heel of a boot to dig a shallow hole. I crouched, set the comm device inside, and quickly stood. I nonchalantly covered the hole with dirt, using the side of my foot and walked toward my hog afterward.
The specks had grown during that time. They were obviously choppers, big ones, military chinooks, I thought. That they headed straight for me meant something ominous.
Those chinooks were almost certain proof that the Secretary of State had blabbed, just as I had suspected.
-6-
There wasn’t much to do and I didn’t see how I could escape anywhere, so I went to the Harley and sat on it, with my hands on the handlebars.
Each helicopter had twin blades. They were big suckers. Soon, the three of them hovered above me, the middle one lower than the others. A big bay door slid open, and three men jumped out.
That surprised me, as the chinook didn’t seem high enough to deploy parachutists.
The men wore something bulky and—
They dropped fast until they were about one hundred feet from the ground. Then, each suit roared with power and lifted its wearer slightly. They were wearing jetpacks.
At the same time, the three chinooks lifted higher and spread apart. I had no idea why they did that. Were the pilots afraid someone might take the group of them out all at once?
I let go of the handlebars so I could shift around for a better look.
The jetpack jockeys made flying look easy. I envied them their skills. In a matter of moments, each touched down lightly.
The jetpacks were loud, and they kicked up black ash and desert sand into billowing clouds. Finally, the packs cycled down and then shut off altogether.
Each man unbuckled and carefully lowered his jetpack onto the ground. They wore body-armor and enclosed motorcycle-like helmets. Their visors were dark, and each helmet had antennae sticking from it.
I could still faintly hear the chinooks upstairs. Otherwise, it was quiet again except for the crunch of their boots.
Two of the flyboys unlimbered bull-pup machine guns, aiming them at me. The third flyer did something to his helmet, pulling it off.
It turned out to be a woman with a mane of glossy black hair that cascaded behind her as she shook her head.
This was interesting. She was a babe with startling blue eyes and a face that should have been on a Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. The body-armor hid her figure, although she was tall and seemingly statuesque.
She let the helmet drop to the ground as she clomped toward me, with puffs of ash rising at each step.
The two machine-gun-toting guards followed her at a discrete distance, widening their locations relative to her and each other.
I wouldn’t be able to take out the two guards in a swift move, that was for sure.
“Logan?” she asked.
I kept my face deadpan. She had a nice voice to match that hair and face.
“I’m Field Agent Jenna Jones of the CAU.”
“Never heard of it,” I said.
“CAU, Counter Alien Unit,” she said.
“You’re kidding me?”
“Are you Logan?”
“You gotta have seen my picture, right?”
“Why won’t you answer the question?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Sure. I’m Logan. What does that mean to you?”
“I must warn you, Logan. If you begin to fade away, my operatives have orders to shoot you.”
“Uh…why wouldn’t I have already faded away if I could?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. The t
eleportation ability must have limitations. Maybe you’re gathering energy to do that.”
I sighed and looked away. I had a feeling my talk with the Secretary of State six months ago had put things into motion that had caused the formation of the CAU. I regarded her again.
“When did the CAU come into existence?” I asked.
“Five months ago.”
“That’s just great.”
“We’ve been monitoring you for some time.”
“For the last five months, anyway” I replied sarcastically.
We stared at each other, seemingly sizing each other up.
“Maybe it will help if you know I have the highest level access possible,” she said.
“What’s that mean?”
“I know you kidnapped the Secretary of State—”
“I didn’t kidnap anyone,” I said, interrupting. “I showed him…a few realities.”
“Put it how you want,” she said, maintaining total seriousness. “I know about it. I know about the Guard ship, the hell-burners from space—” She gave me a closer study. “I know you used to work for Western Sunlight, Inc. You were a Marine before that. I’ve read your bio.”
“Is this hero worship?” I asked.
“I know you have a problem with authority.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“Me.”
I could believe it. She hadn’t even cracked a grin saying that.
“You’re a real team player, huh, Jenna?” I asked.
“That’s Field Agent Jones to you,” she said.
“Why are you here, Field Agent?” I asked.
“Before I answer that, are you going to attempt a teleportation as we speak?”
“What do you think?”
Her eyes narrowed the slightest bit. “I think if you could teleport, you already would have. I think something happened. We suspect you had a falling out with your team.”
“And what team would that be?”
“We had the Homo habilis, Logan. You and the Neanderthal broke him out.”
I blinked several times. Son of a gun. Kazz had lied to me about that, too?
Invaders: The Chronowarp Page 2
