G -1

by Kyle Thomas Bruhnke

  The whir of a motor quietly sneaks up behind me. I hurry to get off the road, but there’s not a bush, or rock, or anything to hide behind. And it’s already too late! I’m trapped. The fear quickly turns into a choking dread rising in my throat. I turn to face the sound. Immediately it seems like it’s behind me. I whirl around again! It is close enough for me to recognize; the black car from the hangars. My breathing nearly stops as the car comes to a halt along side me. The front passenger door opens slowly. I can make out the silhouette of a man illuminated by the light coming from inside the car. The rest of the car’s windows are dark tinted. I can’t see anybody inside. The door closes and the figure steps in front of me, blocking my escape.

  “We know you saw something.” It’s him! The captain!

  I stammer, trying to reply, but before I can get any words out, the rear passenger door opens and out steps the man in the dark suit. I can’t see his face, but I feel him staring at me with deep, dark eyes. I’m trapped between the two men.

  The captain pulls out a billy club. I feel a sharp pain behind my right ear as a blow drives me to the ground.

  “We know you saw something.” It’s the man in the dark suit now. He has walked over to where I cower on the ground. “Now get up!” he yells.

  “We didn’t see anything,” I lie, turning my head away. Placing my hand over my left ear, I can feel it bleeding.

  “Get up!” he yells again. A light pierces my eyes, hazy and dull. “Get up!” I hear again, but it’s a different voice now.

  “No!” I yell back, covering my head, preparing for another strike.

  “Get up you lazy bum, or I’m going to drag you out of bed.”

  I recognize that voice despite my confusion and pain. “Jared?” I hopefully cry, coming out of my dream.

  “Who are you expecting? The CIA?” He laughs. “It’s ten o’clock and we’ve got a busy day.”

  “Not funny,” I reply, trying to wake up. I reach up behind my ear, then look at my hand. There’s no blood. “I just had the worst dream.” I tell him what I can remember.

  “Dreams can be weird,” he says when I finish. “Let’s hope that one remains a dream. Now get up!”

  “All right. Let me get dressed and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  He exits my room. I sit for a moment, staring ahead at the wall. I’ve had few dreams that leave me frazzled like this one, and I try to remember as much as I can. I go over it one more time in my head but already the details are escaping my memory. I throw the sheet back to get dressed.

  When I get downstairs, Jared has helped himself to some cookies that are sitting on the kitchen table. I get two glasses for milk before joining him. We both munch away for a few minutes before anything is said.

  “We have to go back there,” he says suddenly, not bothering to look up for my reaction.

  “Aren’t we in deep enough already?” I ask. “And they might suspect more than we want to guess.”

  “That’s your dream talking,” he says, looking at me before reaching for another cookie. “They don’t suspect anything more than some teenagers necking after dark.” He takes another bite of the cookie, washing it down with a gulp of milk. “My dad says they’re going to keep a couple of guards there until the shiff is decommissioned. He told me to avoid the hangars for the next couple of days.” He looks at me with a spark in his eye which I’ve learned to identify with trouble.

  “Oh! So that means we have to go see what they’re guarding?” I ask sar­castically. It was too early in the morning for me to get excited about anything, especially if there was a possibility that I might experience some discomfort along the way.

  “Hey! Isn’t that what you’re always so interested in? Anti-gravity?” he challenges me. Jared has learned how to push my buttons.

  “Yeah? Well I was hoping I might get some answers on my own, not steal someone else’s property!” I forcefully retort.

  “So you get a little head start with their help. It’s your tax dollars that paid for it,” he states objectively.

  “My folk’s tax dollars,” I correct. “I suppose you’ve already figured out how we’re going to get in there.” I am half hoping the idea will die right here. The other half of me is starting to get a little more excited.

  “You bet,” he says, becoming animated. “You remember when we used to play around over there, and I told you about the underground facilities?”

  “No,” I say to discourage him. But I do remember, and I’ve always wanted to see them. He once told me that seventy-five percent of the launch facility had been built under-ground, with tunnels to connect it with a couple of the hangars on the surface. “What about all the locks?” I ask.

  “I can probably swipe my dad’s keys for a few hours. He won’t miss them. He rarely uses them these days, anyway.”

  I have to admit, his plan has some merit. “And when do you think we could pull this off?”

  “Tonight, after dark,” he says confidently. “We could leave from here again and hike over to The Hill like we did last night.” He stops talking and looks at me with that wild, excited look that tells me we are about to embark on another mission.

  “Umm… I don’t know, man. It seems too risky to me.”

  “Well, I’m going whether you come along or not!” he declares. Just like last night, he serves the challenge with a side of defiance knowing that if I’m his friend, I’ll join in.

  “Let me think about it, okay?”

  “Good enough,” he agrees. Then, all but ignoring my plea, “I’ll be here about 7:30 and we can go over the final plan.” He gets up to head for the door. Before he goes out, he turns and looks at me saying, “You know? We could change history tonight.”

  “If we don’t get caught,” I mutter to myself.

  I sit in the kitchen, the whir of the hybrid fading slowly as he drives away. I’m glad Mom’s off doing her weekend hospital shift, and that Dad’s job took him up north until late today. Nobody will be around to hear our plans except Gramps, and he’d probably want to come along if he knew. He’s like that.

  I munch a couple more cookies, thinking about Jared’s last statement. “Change history,” he had said. That’s what I’ve always dreamed about. To make a discovery, some kind of breakthrough that would help humanity live a better life. I never thought it might involve some risk though. I just want to sit in my lab, think about problems and come up with solutions. It’s supposed to be easy. But here I am, laying it on the line with a big push from a friend. It just isn’t what I imagined.

  I chuckle, realizing my dreams of being a famous researcher are getting ahead of reality. What do we hope to find over there in the shiff? For all I know, there will be nothing there that will make any difference to anybody or anything. And Jared and I will probably get arrested for trespassing. My career will be over before it begins. Or maybe they’ll just let us off with the excuse that we are just a couple of kids with too much time on our hands.

  I get up and walk over to the fridge for a little more milk. As I close the door and take a sip out of the glass, I spot a list of things Mom wants me to do. Here’s my reality.

  I take the list with me as I set the empty glass by the sink. It’s all the usual stuff; check the hy-gens; water the garden; clean the house a little. Some famous researcher I’m growing up to be. I walk out of the house into the mid-morning sun.

  Crossing the parking area towards the shed, I call tell it’s going to be hot today. The sky is crystal clear with only a few wisps of cloud; a good day for solar. I look up at the array of panels mounted on the south side of the shed roof.

  Now the guys that came up with that idea had to have been geniuses. Once the price came down, people really began to see a future and started building for it. That changed the world. Having all the power we need makes it a lot easier to survive in any part of the world. We can run the A/C all we want and it hardly costs anything anymore. Even the shed is air conditioned. I open the door and step into its cool sh
ade.

  As a matter of routine, I grab the notepad to begin checking the gauges. Power’s coming in okay; the hy-gen is percolating away breaking water into hydrogen and oxygen. The vacuum pump wheezes a bit as it moves the hydrogen to storage. Yesterday’s tank is still feeding our fuel cell, making whatever power we need and feeding the leftovers to the grid. The technology is wonderful.

  The down side is that people like my dad, who had started out young with an oil company, are having to find work in this new energy field. He is on the road almost every week, converting the old natural gas pipelines to carry hydrogen where it’s needed. The up side is that those nuclear, coal and natural gas poison machines, are slowly being shut down and disassembled. Gramps thinks the skies are already clearer because of it.

  I write down a few numbers. The most important one is how much energy we send to the grid. It’s fun knowing we’re generating enough power for at least some of the homes in the area that don’t have the equipment yet. I set the notepad down and mentally cross that job off Mom’s list. Everything else can wait a while. I head for the stairs up to the loft.

  There is still a storage area over in the far side of the loft. Here in my space, I have some old office furniture Mom was able to salvage when the hospital remodeled some of its offices. I helped Dad move the desk and chair up here. Eventually, I moved my equipment and an old table up here so I can fabricate things. I sit down in the comfortable old office chair.

  This is where I let my thoughts roam, invent my inventions, and do good for the world. In my dreams, anyway. I have a few books about science and physics, and my telescope which, on a clear night, can bring the wonders of space down to my little place on Earth. Most nights I do my homework here. Other times I just sit and draw in my notebooks, trying to figure out a solution to whatever is on my mind.

  I look up at the corkboard hanging on the wall in front of the desk. Many crude drawings of space planes and other things, have been posted there over time. I look at the pictures I’ve printed of stars I’ve looked at through the telescope. I often wonder what it would be like to have a ship that could bob and weave through them like we ride through the rocks and brush in the desert.

  I nudge the computer keyboard so the screen comes to life. The program begins its routine giving me the news, weather, and sports of the hour. I quickly browse the headlines. One of them, ‘Decommissioned Shiff Makes Final Touch­down’, catches my eye. I click on the link.

  The shuttle’s first replacement vehicle, nick-named ‘the shiff’, made its final landing at the experimental launch facility in central New Mexico yesterday. The computer controlled landing was largely a non-event with few dignitaries in attendance.

  The retired spacecraft will now undergo a thorough inspection to search for any problems which might be present in the remaining fleet of space planes. Its final mission will be as an exhibit at its new home.

  That’s it? No mention of research projects or their results? It makes me even more certain that what we had seen last night was not something for us to see. The events depicted in last night’s dream suddenly replay in my head and a chill runs down my back. If we are ever found out, who knows what the consequences might be. The plans I made with Jared come to mind. We must be crazy! I feel like calling him to back out while there is still time.

  The computer dings to get my attention; somebody is calling me. If it’s Jared, I’m going to tell him tonight is off. I click on my contact list. It’s Jen. I accept the call.

  “Hi Jen. What’s up?” I say as her image displays on my screen.

  “Hey Ty,” she says. “No camera today?”

  “Oh. Wait a minute. Just haven’t turned it on yet.” I click the icon. “How’s that?” I ask.

  “You look like you just got up,” she comments with a grin.

  “Yeah, well, Jared woke me up during a bad dream and I just didn’t get off to a good start.”

  “Bad dream, huh? What about?”

  “Nothing really.” I look away from the camera. I really don’t want to talk about it. After the visit at The Hill last night, and the dream this morning, I’m feel­ing uneasy about the whole thing. She seems to sense my mood. “Hey. You want to get some lunch?” she asks after a few seconds, changing the subject.

  I look up at the screen and give a faint smile. “Yeah. That sounds good.” The cookies I had for breakfast are wearing off quickly. And it isn’t every day that I get invited to lunch by a cute girl. “What time?”

  “Why don’t I just stop by in a bit and we’ll go from there?”

  “Okay. Give me a half hour at least.”

  “Okay. See you then.” I watch her reach to end the call. Her image disappears from my screen. Then, in a brief flash, I see another image. It looks like a man, but I can’t be sure, it’s gone so fast. I turn my camera off again and get up to leave.

  Walking back to the house, I wonder about the image. Had somebody been eavesdropping on Jen and I? I didn’t recognize the face, but it looked like an older man. The face was chiseled, frowning with many stress lines. I hadn’t noticed any background details either. There just wasn’t time. I hope it is just a glitch in the new internet technology. It’s only been six months now that we’ve been receiving internet feeds via fiber optics. That’s one of the problems living out here in the middle of nowhere; new technology gets here last. But then, maybe I am beginning to feel a little paranoid, too.

  I barely hear Jen ride up on her scooter an hour later. I walk out on the porch to meet her as she’s pulling her helmet off.

  “Ready?” she asks, coming up the porch steps. I can smell the sweetness of sun block on her. She is dressed like she expects a warm day.

  “Can we go on that?” I joke, pointing at the scooter.

  “If you want. It’s a little warm for two, though,” she warns, playing along.

  A single drop of sweat rolls down her neck, quickly disappearing beneath her shirt. It might be fun sitting on the back of the scooter, holding onto her as we scoot to the diner. I look up, slightly embarrassed at my thoughts. “Umm... no... I’ll just follow you in on the hy-ped. It’s not too far.”

  She smiles back, saying, “Okay. You ready to go then?”

  “Jimmy’s, I assume?” Of course it is the only place nearby to get anything to eat.

  “I guess,” she responds to my dumb question. I start walking towards the shed to get my hydrogen powered bicycle. She follows along side.

  “Bet you’ll be glad to get your license next month, huh?” she asks. “Then you can at least get a better ride.”

  We walk through the shed door. “You mean like one of those?” I question her, pointing to my grandfather’s motorcycle.

  “That would be something, wouldn’t it?” she says, walking over to marvel at the old bike. She runs her hand over the chrome handlebars, along the well-worn, black leather seat and up the passenger’s backrest.

  “If you can afford the gas for them,” I state as I walk the hy-ped out the door. She follows a minute later. “This bike has been just fine for me for the last three years,” I tell her. I return to the shed to retrieve my helmet.

  I follow Jen as we make the ten minute ride to Jimmy’s. My mind wanders once again over the last twenty-four hours; the landing, the unloading, the visit at The Hill, the dream, Jared’s new plan and finally the image on the computer screen. I have to be careful how I talk to Jennifer. I don’t want to say too much.

  We park the bikes, stowing both helmets in her trunk before heading into the little diner. “Hi Jimmy,” Jennifer greets the owner, cook and waiter of the shop.

  “Hi Jennifer,” he says with a big smile. “You’re still going to start a week from Tuesday, right?” He busily comes out from behind the counter with two big sandwiches on plates ready to be served. “I can really use the help.”

  “You bet,” Jen replies. “6:00 AM, right?”

  “Yep. Great. You two find a seat,” he suggests, buzzing past us. “I’ll be with you in a mi
nute.”

  We walk down the counter to a couple of empty stools. “This okay?” she asks me.

  I look around, spotting an empty booth. “How about over there?” I suggest.

  “Oooo… okay,” she replies, suggestively giving me a wink.

  It suddenly seems Jennifer is acting differently. It feels like she’s flirting. I make a note to be more on guard as I sit down across from her and pick up a menu. Jimmy stops by a few minutes later to take our order.

  “So. That was pretty exciting last night,” she says to me after he’s gone.

  “Yeah, it was okay,” I reply briefly, downplaying our excursion and hoping she’ll go on to another subject.

  “I kind of wish I had gone with you and Jared to check out what was happening at the hangars. I wonder what was in that box he talked about?” She’s staring at me, her face bright with excitement. Becoming uneasy, I look away.

  “You really didn’t miss anything, Jen,” I say, then try to change the subject. “So you’re going to work here this summer?”

  “Yeah.” She sits back on the bench. “It’s close and Jimmy pays okay, so I can get some new clothes and maybe save a little for college.”

  Jimmy scurries up to the booth, setting our drinks on the table. “Here ya go,” he chimes. “I’ll be back with your sandwiches in a few minutes.”

  “Thanks Jimmy,” she responds to her future boss. She strips the paper cover off her straw, sitting forward to swirl it in the soda. She’s looking intently at me. I look at my own drink, feeling self-conscious. “Ty?” she says, almost seductively. “What’s going on?”

  “You don’t want to know,” I blurt out quickly, beguiled by her charm. I glance nervously over at her hoping she hasn’t noticed. But she has. She picks up a spoon, and begins to play with it. I can see her expression is somewhere between curious and hurt.

  “I knew Jared was lying,” she declares quietly.

  “He wasn’t lying, Jen,” I say in his defense.