Nexus of Time

by Mark Riverstone

  "When I woke, my plan was to steal a vehicle from the nearby car rental lot with power out, alarms off, no rentals going out, and no employees. However, the owner of the local rental dealer brought his family and his gun collection, and guarded his lot from looting. That seems to be the trend. Everyone is taking their guns everywhere they go, protecting what they own. Stores selling consumables are low or out of food and practical items. Hurricanes, wildfires, earthquakes, power outages and terrorist attacks trained Americans to stock up and hunker down when problems first arrive.

  "Caught without housing and supplies, put me in an unfavorable position. The vehicle currently in my possession, I took from a woman and her daughter, who were nice enough to pull over and give me a lift. Before them, men twice pulled aside to give me a ride, but they were young, armed, and strong enough that an attempt from an unarmed man of my age to take their vehicle would have likely resulted in failure, and serious harm to myself. When a woman and her daughter picked me up, I scared her enough to fear me and the safety of her daughter, and forced them to hand over her SUV. I drove fifty miles from that location before stopping, beyond police jurisdiction.

  "It turns my stomach that I robbed that woman and her daughter and left them roadside in possible danger. But I didn't see any other option. I think that is why I had a dream I was shooting and killing citizens at a symbolic roadblock. This is the first time I threatened and stole from citizens who were helpless and in need, telling myself it was for the greater good. But there is no such thing. If I don't get back to a Committee post, I won't be able to do anything to help anyone against what the Greys are doing. There is no way to tell what I did will help the many, but I sacrificed a mother and child. I'm not sure I'm saving humanity, only that I'm saving myself.

  "Since then, I siphoned gas from a vehicle in a driveway while a family slept. Stole food supplied from a vending machine I smashed at a rest stop. Right now, I have a half a tank of gas, and enough food and water to get me to the military base southeast of here, near Augusta. I'm not sure where the base is, so I'm hoping to run across signs or military vehicles when I get close. It's not much of a plan, but it is all I got. God may forgive me for what I've done; I won't."

  Nix turns off the recording on his wrist communicator. He closes up the back of the SUV and walks around to the driver's side, getting in. Turning the truck around, he heads out.

  Convoy Crossing

  Chapter 29

  Rural Roads, Georgia.

  Throughout the day, Nix cruises past homes and businesses, dead to the world, with no signs of life or activity. He drives past a lone car, the driver wearing an expression of anxiety, speeding to a destination. The psychology of crisis fascinated Mr. Nix. The gas stations are closed and fuel scarce. Logic dictates that people should drive slower, use less fuel. Yet, the empty unpatrolled roadways coupled with the stress of a crisis compel drivers to race, burning through fuel. Speeding saves time, yet, time is the only thing people can afford to spare.

  According to his gas gauge, Mr. Nix will run out of fuel before he finds the military base. He considers whether he should just pull over and wait until nightfall, then in darkness cruise neighborhoods for gas to steal, when an approaching convoy of military trucks headed towards him in the opposite direction grabs his attention.

  Mr. Nix flicks on his hazard lights, skids the SUV sideways to block both lanes of the road, and jumps out waving his arms to the large lead transport vehicle. With no distance to spare, the military transport truck slams on its breaks, skidding as it comes to a stop right before it hits the SUV. The rest of the convoy screeches to a halt.

  As Nix moves to the front truck, the soldiers jump out weapon-ready, aggressively aiming at Nix.

  "Whoa whoa whoa, take it easy!" blurts Mr. Nix, trying to soothe the soldiers.

  "Sir, get back in your vehicle, move it aside, and be grateful we are in too much of a hurry to arrest you," orders a sergeant, the highest ranking of those confronting Mr. Nix.

  "I'm a Secret Service agent and a liaison to the Department of Defense. Let me show you my Id."

  Nix reaches for his pocket, but the soldiers becomes jumpy at Nix's actions.

  "Sir, don't do that. Check him for his Id," orders the sergeant to the corporal next to him.

  The corporal cautiously creeps toward Mr. Nix, reaching with one hand into Nix's pocket while continuing to aim his rifle with the other. The corporal removes a wallet, flips it open and sees Secret Service identification. He then hands the wallet to the sergeant to scrutinize.

  "It looks legit. Nicholas Xanthos. Secret Service," says Sergeant Wilkes.

  "That is me. I was heading to meet with General McCaffery at the Pentagon when the attack happened. Can I have my Id back?"

  Sergeant Wilkes lowers his weapon, and the other soldiers follow suit. The sergeant tosses the wallet back to Mr. Nix.

  "What are you doing alone out here, Agent?"

  "A recon of agents, including myself, were sent to the Sherer Power Plant. The President received word ahead of time that possible terrorist activity might occur there, and the FBI and CIA were spread thin following other leads. The President didn't want any terrorist leads to go unchecked, so he sent us. We were expecting a sleeper cell to take the plant; we weren't expecting a bombardment. The other agents died in the attack, and our transportation destroyed. I was the only survivor to escape, so I confiscated this vehicle and was working myself toward the nearest military base. But I'm out of gas, so I need to go with you, get a lift back to your base, and speak with your commanding officer regarding communications with the DOD head in Washington."

  The soldier thinks.

  "Sergeant...", reading the name on his uniform, "Wilkes, and Corporal Jefferson, you don't want to leave me here. You don't want me to tell General McCaffery that I didn't reach him during a national emergency because Sergeant Wilkes and Corporal Jefferson refused to give me a ride."

  "Agent Xanthos, Correct? If you work with the DOD, then you were in the armed forces I assume?"

  "Marines. I was a Lieutenant Colonel. Based at the Mountain Warfare Training Center in Bridgeport, California."

  "My apologies Colonel Xanthos. I just wanted to be sure."

  "No apologies necessary, Soldier. We must be cautious during times of national security."

  "You can come with us. We are headed to our commanding officer, but we are not returning to the base. I can take you to him, but that is the best I can do."

  "That is more than satisfactory, Sergeant Wilkes."

  "Corporal, call ahead. Tell Colonel Lex someone from the DOD is accompanying us, and we are on schedule to arrive at seventeen hundred hours. Do I call you Colonel or Agent?"

  "Agent Xanthos is fine. It reflects my current status with the Secret Service."

  "Agent Xanthos, you can ride in front with us. You'll sit in the middle. It's not the most comfortable seat, but the best I can provide."

  "Your aid is of more comfort than anything else. Let me back this SUV onto the shoulder and we can go," says Mr. Nix.

  Mr. Nix gets into the SUV and pulls it off the road into the overgrown grass. He leaves the keys with the abandoned vehicle and returns to Sergeant Wilkes waiting by the military transport truck. Sergeant Wilkes opens the driver door for Mr. Nix to enter.

  "After you, Agent."

  Nix climbs in the large truck and scoots to the middle of the bench seat. Sergeant then climbs it. The engine roars as it starts up. The lead transport truck accelerates, continuing on its way with the rest of the convoy in tow.

  Mr. Nix glances roadside as he passes by the SUV, abandoned and of no more use to him. Abandoned like the mother and daughter he confiscated it from. The SUV got him to the military, but inside guilt punches his gut knowing he cast aside property and transportation crucial to the mother and daughter. That SUV might have been all the two women had left, yet at this moment, it is nothing more than roadside garbage.

  A Miscalculation

  Chapte
r 30

  Hilltop Military Encampment, Outside Augusta Georgia.

  Mr. Nix sits in the middle of the transport truck's front seat rocking side to side, banging shoulders with the corporal and sergeant on the rough ride over a seldom used one-lane road. With no room for an approaching military caravan to pass, both the transport truck and oncoming vehicles pull off and drive on the road berm with only one tire on paved road to prevent colliding.

  Passing a makeshift military checkpoint guarded by soldiers ready to stop unauthorized vehicles, the transport truck turns into a compound of unmaintained ground that was quickly cleared of vegetation. Chainsaws buzz while treetops beyond the tents topple out of view. The cracking of their trunks ends with the snap-thunk of timber striking the forest floor, the soundtrack for the expanding compound clearance.

  Assault vehicles, transport vehicles, mobile command trucks and office trailers line throughways for vehicles and people to pass from one area to another. Enlisted soldiers wearing radiation suits and carrying combat gear circulate in and out of two canvas tents at the edges of the compound. Behind the compound and a distance away from everything else, soldiers in radiation gear line up by hazmat tents to decontaminate.

  While the transport truck with Mr. Nix turns and drives towards one of the enlisted soldier tents, the rest of the convoy breaks apart, heading to where they need to go. The transport truck stops. Sergeant Wilkes and Corporal Jefferson jump out and move to the rear of the truck. Mr. Nix scoots out and follows.

  Sergeant Wilkes drops the back tailgate, revealing benches lined with seated soldiers, "Alright, men. Fall out! Thirty minutes to get into radiation suits and collect combat-0ready gear, backup supplies and a topo map with patrol routes. You will then reassemble here ready to head out and relieve the current patrol protecting the perimeter. Am I clear!?!"

  "Yes sir!" shout the soldiers in unison as they leap from the truck with their packs and head into the enlisted tent.

  Sergeant Wilkes turns to Mr. Nix, "Come with me, Agent Xanthos."

  The sergeant marches across the encampment, Mr. Nix rushing to keep pace. They are on an intercept course toward a commanding colonel walking and giving orders to subordinate officers flanking him, and a row of three armed guards in tow. The sergeant and Mr. Nix reach the colonel, stopping him and his entourage in their path.

  Sergeant Wilkes snaps to attention, "Colonel Lex, sir, we picked up this man en route here. He is a Secret Service agent and working with the DOD. He has requested to speak with you, sir. Says it is a matter of national security and relevant to the Pentagon."

  "Did you verify his credentials, Sergeant?"

  "Sir, yes, sir!"

  "Thank you, Sergeant, you are dismissed. Major and Captains, you have your orders," casually states Colonel Lex.

  The subordinate officers flanking Colonel Lex leave, as does Sergeant Wilkes. The three guards remain behind the colonel as he turns and looks Mr. Nix up and down.

  "I don't mean to be rude..." says Colonel Lex in a dismissive tone.

  Mr. Nix interrupts, "...Agent Xanthos is my name. I was formerly a Lieutenant Colonel with the Marines, so I understand not welcoming interruptions under such circumstances. I need to get a hold of General McCaffery with the DOD in Washington regarding these attacks ASAP. With communications disrupted, I figured you possess operational means to still reach Washington."

  "Listen, Agent Xanthos, I am in the middle of a vital operation. I can't spend my time holding your hand while you phone home. So, unless you bring a message or information for me, I'm busy and you will need to step aside and wait."

  "How long a wait?"

  "As long as I need."

  "Colonel, you must help me. It is a matter of national security and an emergency."

  "This is my party, Agent, and you are crashing my party. Either give me a reason not to kick you aside, or go find the mess tent and sip joe until I find an enlisted man to escort you back to wherever they found you."

  Mr. Nix thinks quick. He's got to give the right answer. His first instinct is to tell the same 'other nation attacking' lie he told the local police sergeant. Yet, if this colonel has any idea what is going on, he'll know Mr. Nix is lying and end any chance Nix has of getting the colonel's help. If Nix tells him the truth about the attacks and the colonel is unaware of the truth, he'll brush Nix off anyway as a crackpot. All the heavily armed soldiers in protective gear, knowing no civilian populations settled in this area, tells Mr. Nix they aren't out here for population control or riot prevention. They are ready to fight something, and the only thing they could face other than civilians is the Greys. Nix decides he has to be honest and hope the colonel has a clue.

  "Colonel, I have information on what is happening, who is performing the attacks, and why."

  "Go on," eggs Colonel Lex.

  "Not out here, Colonel. My information is classified. Is there a secure place where we can discuss this?"

  "Sure. But this better be worth it. The only thing I hate more that wasting my time is someone telling me they have important information and wasting my time."

  Colonel Lex turns leads Mr. Nix to a trailer with sealed doors and no windows. Generators buzz outside the trailer. Heavy cables plug into a sophisticated outlet cluster on its side. Fans and compressors hum on the roof of the trailer, conditioning the inside air. The colonel opens a side door and steps inside. Nix follows while the three guards stop at the door. The guards close the door and secure positions, posting themselves around the trailer.

  Inside, sophisticated communication equipment, maps and tactical systems line the walls. Four officers sit at the consoles operating and monitoring the equipment.

  "Sir, this is only for the highest levels of clearance, we should be alone," expresses Mr. Nix again.

  "Agent, these men are of the highest clearance. That is why they are in here. Anything you need to say to me, you can say in front of them."

  "Very well. Colonel, this was and is not an attack from any nation. It is not terrorist either."

  Nix watches the colonel's expression to see if he is giving a sign of recognition. He is not.

  "It is an attack by an intelligent species other than human."

  "I see," says Colonel Lex. "Anything else?"

  "Before I continue, do you believe me?"

  The colonel still shows no expression, but sits at the table. "What are they? Green men from Mars or something? Invaders from a faraway galaxy? Any weaknesses to our sun, or the air, or something?"

  Mr. Nix can't tell if the colonel is joking or serious. Nix glances around the room to see if any of the officers are reacting to the news. They are not. In for a penny, in for a pound thinks Mr. Nix, so he continues his explanation in a serious tone.

  "No. They are not from somewhere else, Colonel. They are from here. Earth. They evolved millions of years before humanity was born. They understand this planet better than we do."

  "That doesn't sit right with me. If they are from here, where have they been hiding? I think you are shoveling me DOD manure. Or you are not telling me something? If you are keeping secrets, you can walk off my compound right now."

  "I'm not bulldozing you, Colonel. Remote contact has been made with them for decades. We possess some of their tech and even physical specimens. They were here all along, but a mass epidemic caused population reduction, and their species dropped from millions to thousands. As a result, they hid and watched humanity evolve, while working on a way to revitalize their species. Recently, they discovered a rapid way to expand their numbers and increase genetic diversity, and decided they want Earth back. This isn't our first battle with them. I was in charge of an operation that thwarted their buildup of a human hybrid they created to infiltrate humanity and kill us from the inside. We, along with the Black Ops and Navy, destroyed their under-ocean breeding colony, but unfortunately it didn't deter their willingness to attack us."

  "Tell me why they are attacking us in this way," asks Colonel Lex.

  "The
se creatures, called the Greys, are too small in numbers to risk any of them dying in battle. They built weapons powerful enough to demolish cities and even annihilate the Earth, but that damage would also destroy healthy land and resource they need to rebuild their population and establish Earth colonies. Their tactic is to destroy our utilities, fuel depots, mines and major refinement factories, believing humans will starve, become desperate, and kill each other for what remains. Humans performing the extermination of humans so they don't have to."

  "If they want our resources, why destroy fuel depots, mines and refinement factories?"

  "They don't use fossil fuels, so oil and natural gas are of no use. As for resources, Colonel, our cities and population centers are filled with mined and refined materials. They don't need to dig from the ground. They just need to recycle what we use. That alone should be enough material to last them for decades."

  "Say I believe what you are telling me. What are we dealing with here?"