by Terence West
"Honey? Are you okay?"
It was only her father. Relief flowed over her as she answered, "Yeah, I just can't sleep." Christina pulled herself into a sitting position.
"Dr. Monroe said you might be experiencing some sleepless nights due to your concussion, but you really should try and get some rest." Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he placed his hand on her shaking knee.
"Every time I close my eyes I see the light, Dad." She closed her eyes and leaned forward placing her head in her hands.
"What about the light, Tina." He paused for a moment. He didn't want to push her. "Can you describe it to me?" He had asked this question many times before, but had never gotten an answer he was truly satisfied with.
"It kind of floated." She lifted her head to look at him. "It scorched the sage brush like it was on fire. Then they came after me."
Jonathan looked puzzled for a moment. "Who's 'they'?"
"I don't know who they are," she leaned her head over on his broad shoulders. "I don't even know what they are."
He was worried. Maybe Dr. Monroe was right. Maybe she did need to see a Psychiatrist. One thing still troubled him though. "How did you get into the desert in the first place? You were about ten miles out of town with no shoes on."
"I don't know." She was visibly shaking now. "Dad, I don't want to talk about it anymore, okay?"
"I understand sweetheart. I'll leave so you can get some rest." He stood up and walked toward the door.
"Dad?" Her voice was soft and quiet.
"Yeah, Tina?"
"Could you leave the light on?"
He smiled. "No problem. Goodnight sweetie." He left the room closing the door behind him.
She listened as the sounds of his footsteps slowly faded away. The light did little to ease her nerves. Lying back down in the bed she pulled the covers tightly up to her neck. She lay there motionless watching the shadows of the tree branches just outside of her window dance on the ceiling.
She felt as if hours had passed as she lay there, but when she looked at the clock she saw that only a few minutes had. Pulling the covers up over her head, she lay there cowering. The fear was paralyzing her body.
* * * *
It took four strong men dressed in yellow jumpsuits to carry in the large wooden crate. The device had looked deceptively light sitting underneath the Sphinx. They sat the crate down carefully in front of several men dressed in long white lab coats then exited the room.
The small room had highly polished silver floors and the walls were covered with several banks of computers. Tables occupied several spots in the room. They were filled with high tech computer equipment and tools of all shapes and sizes.
One of the men lifted a crow bar off a nearby table and jammed it between the lid of the box and the body of the crate. With several swift cranks on the handle, the box's lid separated and fell to the floor.
The men marveled at the artifact inside. "Where did they say they recovered this?"
"On the Geza Plateau. Some researcher uncovered it beneath the Sphinx."
"This is an incredible find. Do we have any idea what it does?"
"No, but it's been under the Sphinx for thousands of years and it still registers incredible amounts of energy."
"Well, let's get to work." The men started to carefully pull the strange looking device out of the crate.
* * * *
The morning light poured in through Jake's window. From under the covers he removed his hands and began rubbing his eyes. He lifted himself into a sitting position and dropped his feet to the floor. Dragging his hands down his face he tried to rub away the sleep. Still groggy, he glanced over at the clock on his nightstand. It was 7:14 in the morning.
Fighting his body's urge to fall back to sleep, he stood up and made his way into the bathroom. Turning on the faucet he splashed some warm water on his face. I am definitely not a morning person, he reminded himself.
He reached into the shower and turned it on. While waiting for the shower to warm up he glanced across the hall into his room. His eyes caught the red glare of his digital clock. It read seven-twenty three a.m. Jake walked over and shut the bathroom door. Something didn't feel right, but he couldn't place it. Pulling off his shorts he checked the shower. Stepping in he let the warm water flow over his body and wash away the sleep. He reached across to the shelves that held the soap and grabbed his shampoo. Squeezing a generous helping into his hand, he closed his eyes and began to wash his hair.
Suddenly Jake began to feel very uncomfortable. He opened his eyes just as soap washed into both. His vision blurred and his eyes stung, but he saw a dark shape in the shower with him. Momentarily forgetting the pain in his eyes he concentrated on the dark blur in the shower. Just as he began to get the soap out of his eyes he saw a long spindly arm reach for him. He panicked. Trying to move back he slipped on the floor slamming his head on the edge of the bathtub. He sank slowly to the floor, his head throbbing. He felt himself begin to lose consciousness. The last thing he remembered was the large dark object looming over him.
Jake awoke in the same place he had fallen. The shower was turned off and there was no steam on the mirror. How long was I out? He began to stand up but an intense burst of pain shot through his head knocking him back to the floor. When he finally managed to step out of the shower, he clamped both hands to the side of his head. He staggered out of the bathroom and into his room. He was shocked to realize that the display on his alarm clock read 10 am. I was out for three hours? He questioned. Running his hand down his face, his mind jumped to something more insidious. What the hell was that thing in the shower?
Trying to shake the cobwebs from his mind, he ran over to his dresser and pulled out a pair of sweats and put them on. He rushed to his front door. It was still locked. What's going on here? He ran to his back door and checked. Still locked. Jake's nerves were running wild. At every noise in the house a shiver of anxiety ran through him.
"To hell with this. I'm getting out of here!" Running back to his room, he yanked his suitcase out of the closet and tossed it on the bed. Moving over to his dresser he began removing clothes and tossing them haphazardly into his suitcase. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a dark form streak in front of his bedroom door. Slowly he stopped what he was doing and watched the intruder out of the corner of his eye. Moments passed as the dark form stood frozen in the doorway.
He knew it was now or never. Snapping his head around he drew a bead on the object and began to squeeze the trigger, but it was gone.
A loud buzzing noise cut through his thoughts arousing him from deep sleep. Immediately sitting up, he wiped the sweat off his face. Just a damned dream, he assured himself. I've got to stop watching those late night horror movies.
Jake quickly got out of bed and walked over to the closet and pulled on an old pair of blue jeans and a shirt. He moved to his dresser and began to rummage through his sock drawer trying to find a pair that resembled each other. Pulling his suitcase out of the closet, he began to pack up a weeks worth of clothes. He reached up to the top shelf in his closet he removed a box of expensive cigars. Taking one cigar from the box, he deposited the rest in his suitcase. Popping the cigar into his mouth, he stepped over to his dresser and removed his handgun and a box of shells and placed them in his suitcase. He flipped the lid closed and zipped up his suitcase. He quickly grabbed it off of his bed and left the bedroom.
Double-checking the living room, Jake made sure everything was in order for Rachel while she watched his house. He gave the house a cursory glance and decided it was good enough. Grabbing his coat off the floor from where he deposited it last night, he slung it over his shoulder. With his suitcase in hand, he walked out into the garage.
Opening the trunk of his car he tossed in his suitcase. Closing it, he made his way to the driver's side and got it. Hitting the button on his visor, the garage door began to open. Jake pulled the keys out of his coat pocket and started up the car and pulled out.
It was a beautiful day in Lake Tahoe. The sun glistened of the morning dew that still clung to the trees and plants in his yard. It was just above the tops of the mountains casting an orange glow across the landscape. He took a deep breath of the fresh morning air. He loved the smell of pine trees in the morning. Pulling the car out of his driveway, he maneuvered into traffic and made his way to his office.
Stopping next to the curb in front of his place of business, he shut off the engine and stepped out of the car. Using his keys to unlock his office door, he opened it and walked inside. Quickly moving to his desk, he slid opened one of his drawers and removed a small gray laptop computer. After plugging it in and turning it on, he keyed the computer to initialize his modem. Logging on to the FBI's site, he accessed their database of criminals. Being a former FBI agent he knew how to circumvent their security measures, and easily slipped into the database.
"Let's see here. I want to take a look at the Anderson family." Typing his query into the search field, he tapped the enter key with his finger and began the search. "Nothing on a Susan Anderson. Let's try Jonathan." Re-entering his information he again started the search. This time it came up with a very interesting find. "Restricted? Why would it be restricted?" He sat there for a moment, planning his next move. "We'll come back to Jonathan. Let's see what we have on Christina Anderson." The computer whirred to life once again. The search took only seconds and returned nothing. "Well, Mr. Anderson, you seem to be the only one with any kind of record. Why is it restricted?" He clicked off the computer.
"I think it's time that I called in an old favor." Picking up his office phone he dialed a New Orleans number. The phone rang several times before someone answered
"FBI, New Orleans field office. How can I help you?" It was a pleasant female voice on the other end.
"Hi, I need to speak with Special Agent Connor, please."
A moment passed. Jake knew she was obviously initiating some sort of recording device on her end. This had become common practice since every nut case that wants to blow up a building calls the FBI to tell them about it first. "One moment, please." Jake waited on the phone patiently. Connor owed him a favor.
"Special Agent Connor." He answered the phone with a very stern, no nonsense kind of voice.
"Hey Sam! How the hell are you? This is your old partner Jake!"
"Well, I'll be damned. How are you Silver?" Instantly his voice lightened into a more playful tone.
"I'm doing good. How's life in the Bureau?"
"Same as ever. What made you to decide to call me?"
Jake hesitated, "I need to ask you a favor, Sam."
"Somehow I knew this was coming. You know I can't help you out anymore Jake. I could get in a lot of trouble if my AD found out."
Jake took on an apologetic tone. "I know, I know. I wouldn't call you if it weren't important. Besides, you still owe me one."
"For what?"
Jake could hear Connor roll his eyes on the other end. "That time I saved your life."
"What?"
"You know what I'm talking about. That time I took a bullet for you in that warehouse shoot out." Jake had the scar to prove it.
"Okay, okay. I remember." He lowered his voice. "What can I help you with Jake?"
"I was looking up some information on a client of mine in the data base—"
"You were in the database?" Sam asked angrily. "You know you're not supposed to be in there anymore!"
"I know. I just needed a little background." Jake began to feel a little impatient. "Are you gonna help me or not?"
"All right. Hold on. Let me fire up my computer." It took a few seconds. Jake could hear the clacking of keys on the other end of the phone, then the familiar beep of the hard drive. "Okay I'm ready. Give me the name."
"The name is Jonathan Anderson." Jake waited a moment. "When I pulled it up, it was marked 'restricted'."
Over the phone, he heard his friend typing the information into his computer. "Okay, the name is coming up now. Well looks like you were right, Jake. It's restricted."
"Yeah, but what does that mean?"
"I don't run across this kind of things very often, but usually it means that he's some sort of high level government employee."
Jake ran that information through his mind for a moment. It didn't mean anything to him at the moment. "Thanks, Sam. I appreciate it."
"No problem. Hey, by the way, you take care out there in Nevada. Don't you go playing in any toxic waste or anything," Sam smiled.
"Very funny," Jake said with a forced laugh. "Take it easy Sam." Jake slowly returned the phone to its base, toying with his new information for a moment. Jonathan Anderson is a government employee, he stated. What does that mean, and does it have anything to do with this case?
Standing up, Jake decided that he would have the whole drive to Vegas to think about it and he was really eager to get started. He grabbed his laptop off his desk and walked out the front door hastily locked it behind him. Jumping into his car, he carefully stowed the laptop on the back seat then started the car.
Jake retrieved a cigar and his lighter from his pocket. Flipping the lighter open he ran his thumb over the switch and lit the flame. He held the flame to the end of the cigar and took a couple of long puffs. As smoke began to roll out of the cigar, he snapped shut the lighter. This case is getting more interesting by the minute, he thought to himself.
Chapter 3
The southern Nevada desert streaked past. It was a strange place at night. Shadows fell in odd directions, and patches of sagebrush created entire sections that somehow seemed to swallow the light.
The crew of the helicopter was bathed in an unnatural red light used only for nighttime combat missions. The four members worked their controls diligently as the pilot skimmed across the desert. This was an average reconnaissance mission and all the men knew it. The pilots had taken to calling this patrol the "snooze cruise", because nothing ever happened on this watch. None of the men knew now, but this night would be very different.
"Radar, what's the word, Red?"
Lt. Gary 'Red' Janson was manning the radar controls. Checking his screens, he flipped several switches. "Nothing to report sir. All scopes clear." Keying in a command, he changed the settings on his screens.
"Very well," Captain John Pike said with a sigh. "Let's put this flight to bed. Heading back to Dreamland." Swiftly and skillfully he turned the helicopter toward the south. The chopper smoothly answered the controls.
Looking hard at the screens, Red noticed something. Moving several dials, he recalibrated his controls to make sure he was getting a true reading. "We've got something on radar, Sir!" He was understandably excited.
"What is it?"
"Don't know, Sir, but it's moving fast, and right toward us."
"All right, let's see what it is. Bearing?" Finally some action, he thought with a wicked smile. Even if it was a stray kite drifting into their air space, it was something to do.
"Bearing is due north of us. It's still heading our way." Altering his course he turned the helicopter to the north.
"Bogey is still bearing down on us. ETA," he re-checked his computations, "three minutes. It definitely has size and mass, Sir. The object could be an aircraft."
"Good. Let's see what we can see." He turned and nodded to his co-pilot, "lock and load."
The co-pilot nodded and swiftly began to carry out the order. He toggled the switch on his radio to the 'on' position. "Dreamland, this is Red Bird. Do you copy?"
His radio crackled to life, "Dreamland. Go ahead Red Bird."
"Dreamland, we have a radar contact directly north of us and heading our way. Its ETA is about two minutes now. Please advise."
* * * *
Turning away from his screen, Colonel Rick Hunter swiveled around in his chair. He was a tall and slender man with dark skin and hair. He wore his blue Air Force uniform well. "General Davis, could you come take a look at this?"
The command center was buzzing with act
ivity. The bare metal walls were filled with banks of controls and video screens. Men moved chaotically across the room trying to finish their tasks in a timely fashion. This was the central brain of Area 51, deep in the Nevada desert. Every radio communication went thought this room. The base, mostly built underground, was safely hidden from wandering eyes and satellite photos.
General Tom Davis was sitting in the command chair at the center of the room. He was a tall, broad man in his early sixties. The four stars on each shoulder sparkled in the lights of the control room. "Yes, Colonel? What is it?" His gray hair was crisply combed and his rugged face neatly shaved.
"Sir, Red Bird has just reported in. They have an object on radar due north of their location, and quickly bearing down on them."
"What is it, Colonel?"
"We don't know that yet, Sir."
"Well, find out, Colonel." His voice was hard and stern.
"Yes, Sir." Spinning around in his chair, Hunter keyed his mic. "Red Bird, this is Dreamland."
Pike breathed a sigh of relief. The bogey was now less than a minute away from contact. "Red Bird here, Dreamland. Awaiting instructions."
"Red Bird, permission to investigate bogey granted."
"Yes Sir." Clicking off the mic, Pike turned to his co-pilot. "We have orders to intercept and investigate the bogey."
"Roger that."
"Red, what's the status of the bogey?"
"Still closing, Sir. ETA is now about thirty seconds."
Pike flipped on the mic again. "Flight 134 to unauthorized air craft. You are entering restricted air space. Repeat, you are entering restricted air space. Turn your craft around." Nothing. Static filled the speaker.
"Captain, bogey is continuing on its present course."
Pike tried again. "Flight 134 to unauthorized craft. You are in restricted air space. Be advised deadly force is authorized. Repeat, deadly force is auth—" A sharp high pitched squeal erupted from his head set. Just as quickly as it began, the noise stopped. "Jesus Christ!"
"Captain, what the hell was that?"
"Beats the hell out of me." Searching the sky with his eyes, Pike couldn't see the intruder yet. "Do we have a visual on the target yet?" He felt his crew tighten up. This was strange. Even for working at Area 51. "Stay loose. We're just here to take a look around—"
