sedona files - books one to three

by Christine Pope

  He’d always worked best seated in a chair, so he pulled out one of the hardbacked little jobs from his dinette set and placed it in the dead center of the living room carpet. Right now he was just trying a little fact-finding; he wouldn’t bother with the notepad and pencil. Time for that later…if he had any success on this go-round.

  Eyes shut, he placed his hands palm down on his knees and waited. Sometimes it took a while to come to him, especially if he hadn’t attempted a viewing for weeks or even months. But he couldn’t be impatient. He couldn’t be anything except an empty vessel, waiting for the visions to come.

  That wasn’t exactly the right way to think of it, but it was close enough. Maybe it was more like slowly scanning across radio bands and waiting for one to come in clearly amidst all the static. The one thing he needed was to be completely blank, to shut out everything around him.

  Including the unwelcome vision of Kara on the back of her grandfather’s Indian Chief, arms wrapped around some muscle-bound character in a tight-fitting black T-shirt. The guy was wearing a helmet, so Lance couldn’t see his face. Not that it mattered. Mrs. Martinez had already stated that the guy was muy caliente.

  No. He couldn’t do anything about any of that. It was not his problem. Time to focus on something else.

  The darkness and stillness in his mind were always the precursors to the viewings. He had to get to that headspace before anything else could happen. Somehow he managed to get there, to let go of everything in and around him so he could do what needed to be done.

  Outside, it was full dark, but levels below the ground the base blazed with light. This was an easier viewing than many because he’d already been there; his mind filled in the details of that which was known and concentrated instead on what had changed.

  You’d never know the place had been dead and quiet only a few weeks earlier. Now the corridors were filled with people, many of them the blank-faced hybrids Persephone thought she’d destroyed all those months ago.

  Incongruously, a mangled version of the old slogan from a potato chip commercial surfaced in his mind. Kill all you want…we’ll just make more!

  He gave the slightest of head shakes. Focus…he needed to focus, because even that stray thought had caused the scene in his mind to waver, like a television picture broken up with static.

  It wasn’t just the hybrids, though. He also saw people who looked human but whose movements and expressions told him they’d been taken over by aliens. So maybe the grand plan to enslave a good chunk of the world’s population had failed, but obviously the aliens were still acquiring puppets as the need took them.

  And then he saw…others. Aliens in their true forms, with no need to hide or dissemble, which meant that no actual humans existed at the base. And that meant…

  Nothing good. Previously there had been some sort of agreement between the aliens and certain corrupt members of the government, but if the base was all aliens, all the time, then most likely even the compromised humans were being kept in the dark.

  What were the aliens plotting? He had no idea, could tell nothing from the shapes, both human and inhuman, walking to and fro within the base’s corridors. They moved quickly, as if intent on some purpose, but what that purpose was, he didn’t know.

  Don’t get frustrated. Just observe.

  Easy to say. Not so easy to do. He had to let the images come to him, couldn’t force them or try to make them go someplace else. It would have been better to see inside one of the labs, or even the motor pool. Anyplace but these interminable hallways.

  But as he drew in a deep breath and tried to regain his ragged focus, it dissolved before his eyes. All he could see was the black behind his eyelids, and he knew he’d lost the vision.

  “Well, shit,” he said aloud to the empty room, and opened his eyes.

  He glanced down at his watch. Nine o’clock. So he’d been out of it for almost an hour and a half. His stomach grumbled, telling him it had been way too long since lunch.

  Lance ignored the rumblings and headed instead to the cabinet in the kitchen where he kept his liquor. A shot of Jack went into a glass and he took it quickly, gulping it down without really tasting it. Some booze was meant for savoring, but not ol’ J.D. That was for when you needed to get your head together real quick.

  For a second he contemplated calling Paul but realized that was a stupid idea. The Olivers were at a wedding; most likely Paul had his phone shut off in order to avoid any uncomfortable interruptions. Besides, they were going to be back the day after tomorrow. The aliens looked busy, but Lance hadn’t gotten the impression that they were ramping up for a final push. There was probably plenty of time to plan a counter-strike before the shit really hit the fan.

  Probably.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Janelle Russo’s office was located at the west end of town, on the second floor of an office building done in adobe-colored stucco to coordinate with Sedona’s ubiquitous Southwest vibe. Even the McDonald’s a few blocks down the street had a set of teal-colored arches rather than the regulation gold.

  Kara had driven, although Grayson offered. The motorcycle was one thing, but she would rather he stayed out from behind the wheel of the Prius. Besides, she pointed out, she knew the way.

  So he’d shrugged and finished clearing away the rest of the breakfast dishes. Apparently he’d been serious about pitching in around the house as a way of paying off his perceived “debt” to her.

  Well, if he didn’t want to feel like a kept man, she couldn’t really blame him. Never mind that they’d already fallen into the sort of easy routine she recalled from her time with Alan…although with Alan there had always seemed to be bickering over whose turn it was to do the dishes or take out the trash.

  She had to remind herself that Grayson had only been with her for four days. Somehow it seemed as if he’d been a part of her life for much longer than that. But he hadn’t, of course. And they were here to try to find out just where he’d been before those four days began.

  They pulled into a space directly in front of the staircase that led up to the second-floor offices. Only Janelle’s Honda sat a few spots away; after all, it was a Sunday, and no one else had any real reason to be at the complex.

  Grayson followed her up the stairs. They hadn’t said much on the drive over. Most likely he was worrying about the session and what it might reveal. And some people were just hinky about being hypnotized. Kara had always rather enjoyed it, since she really did come out of the hypnotic trance feeling refreshed and relaxed. Then again, she’d only had sessions with somebody properly licensed, not some entertainer trying to make people squawk like chickens or hop around on one foot for five minutes.

  Janelle opened the door just as they approached. “Come on in,” she said. “I was keeping this locked since I’m the only one here.”

  “No problem,” Kara replied, moving past Janelle. Grayson also entered, looking around with some interest.

  The office was small but well-furnished, with a reclining leather chair in a deep smoke color rather than the typical black. Two more office chairs were covered in the same gray leather, and the walls were painted a soft, soothing shade somewhere between gray and blue. Graceful palms sat in two of the corners.

  “Hi, Grayson,” Janelle said, putting out her hand. “I’m Janelle Russo.”

  He took her hand somewhat uncertainly and shook it.

  She pointed at the recliner. “You can go ahead and take a seat in that chair.”

  A wary glance in Kara’s direction. “Kara can stay, right?”

  “Normally I prefer to see my clients alone, but if it makes you feel more comfortable, that’s fine.” Janelle flashed a quick smile at him, but her dark eyes seemed to be intent on Kara, as if she were attempting to figure out exactly what the relationship beween the two of them might be. “Kara, you can sit over there.”

  The second of the two office chairs was located about three feet away from the recliner and the chair where Janelle
would conduct the session. Kara went over to the office chair and sat down, then gave Grayson what she hoped was an encouraging smile. “It’ll be fine.”

  His expression was dubious, but he took his seat in the recliner and folded his hands in his lap. “What do I have to do?”

  “Nothing difficult,” Janelle said in soothing tones. Even though Kara knew the hypnotherapist had been here in Sedona for more than ten years, she still had a touch of East Coast sharpness to her accent. “I want you to close your eyes and breathe in and out, slowly and deeply.” She paused to make sure Grayson was doing as she requested, then continued, “Okay, I’m going to count backward from ten. When I get to one, you’ll be relaxed and open, ready to receive your memories. Ten, nine…”

  And she went through the countdown, as Grayson’s dark lashes fluttered against his cheeks and his breathing grew slower and deeper. Even though Kara had seen this many times, it was still fascinating to her, that a person could so easily be guided into a trance state.

  “All right, Grayson,” Janelle said, “we’re going to take you back to Wednesday night. Can you tell me where you are?”

  A pause, and then he said, his words slow and his tone oddly flat, “The desert.”

  Well, that really narrowed it down. Kara refrained from letting out a sigh. She needed to be invisible while this was going on. Besides, Janelle had only begun. She was merely setting the stage right now.

  “Can you tell me about this desert?”

  “Dark. Hot. I see lights.”

  “Lights from where?”

  “Houses.” He hesitated, then said, “I know I’m not supposed to go there, but if I don’t, I’ll die.”

  Janelle’s brow furrowed a little, and she pushed her glasses up with one finger so they settled more firmly on the bridge of her nose. “Why are you afraid you’re going to die?”

  His hands, which had been resting limply against his jean-clad thighs, clenched. “Haven’t eaten. Haven’t drunk. Too much sun.”

  That seemed to jibe with Kara’s speculation about his condition when he first showed up on her doorstep. She held her breath as Janelle asked,

  “How long have you been in the desert?”

  No answer. Only his sun-browned fingers digging into the flesh of his thighs.

  “It’s fine,” Janelle soothed. “You don’t have to tell me that right now. Can you go past the desert, back to where you were before you were out in the heat and the sun?”

  A frown. His jaw muscles tensed. “Number 79587A.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Number 79587A.”

  “Is that an apartment or house number?”

  No response. This time Kara could actually see the muscles in his throat and jaw tense as he seemed to wage some kind of internal war. Finally he said, “No.”

  “No, it’s not an address?”

  “No.”

  Janelle frowned, just the smallest bit, then sat up a little straighter. “Okay, Grayson — ”

  Voice emphatic, “That’s not my name.”

  Without missing a beat, Janelle asked, “Can you tell me your name?”

  “No.”

  “You don’t remember it?”

  “No name.”

  Again a frown creased the olive skin between Janelle’s eyebrows, as she sat back in her chair and appeared to contemplate Grayson for a moment. “Are you afraid to tell me your name?”

  “I can’t.”

  “All right, let’s leave that for now.” The hypnotherapist’s voice was still soothing, still unruffled, although Kara knew she must be feeling frustrated. God knows Kara herself was frustrated enough for the two of them. “Can you tell me about where you came from? Were there other people there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Many people?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was it a city?”

  “No.”

  “A smaller town, then. Like Sedona?”

  “No.”

  His voice still sounded flat, expressionless, so unlike himself. Or maybe this was the real Grayson, and the man she thought she’d come to know over the past few days someone else entirely, a construct built on their interactions and nothing more.

  No, she refused to believe that was true. It was something about the hypnosis, something in the way he was reacting to it that made him sound like an entirely different person…and not one she wanted to know.

  “Can you describe this place?”

  “No. It’s not allowed.”

  “Can you explain that? Did someone tell you not to speak about where you came from?”

  “No one is supposed to talk about it. I shouldn’t be talking to you now.” Finally some emotion seeped into his voice; he sounded tense, almost nervous.

  Janelle obviously picked up on it, too, because she said, her tone even more gentle than before, “You’re safe here, Grayson. If you don’t want to speak of it, you don’t have to.”

  “No. It’s not safe.”

  “Can you tell me why you would say that?”

  His hands were knotting and unknotting themselves against his thighs, and Kara could see a sheen of sweat on his brow, even though the office was air conditioned and more than comfortable. “Because they’re looking. They’re looking, and they’ll find me. I know they will. They won’t stop. They never stop!”

  He almost shouted these last words. Kara sat up a little straighter and shot a worried look at Janelle. Grayson seemed so agitated, surely the therapist would pull him out of the trance now.

  The two women seemed to be in accord, because Janelle gave a grim shake of her head and said, “All right, Grayson, I want you to take in a deep breath. Breathe in, then out.”

  Although his hands were still clenched, his respiration did seem to slow. He shut his eyes and breathed as he’d been instructed.

  “Very good, Grayson. Now I’m going to count backward from ten. As I count, you’re going to come slowly up to consciousness. You’ll awake refreshed, and you won’t remember anything that took place here, unless you want to. All right? Ten…nine…eight…”

  Kara looked on as Grayson’s breathing grew more shallow. As Janelle said “two,” his eyelids fluttered, and then he opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling in an unfocused way, as if he couldn’t quite recollect where he was.

  “Doing okay?” Janelle asked. “Some water?”

  He shook his head. “No, I’m all right.” A tentative smile, the warmth in his expression so different from the flat intonation he’d used while under hypnosis. “So, did I say anything important?”

  Kara and Janelle exchanged a glance, but luckily Janelle spoke up first. “We weren’t able to find out much about who you are or where you came from, unfortunately. But this was only a light trance…maybe if I put you under a little deeper…”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Kara said, surprising herself. After all, this had been her suggestion. Now, though, she was thinking they probably should have left well enough alone. “Unless you really want to, Grayson,” she added.

  For a few seconds he didn’t say anything. Then he replied, “No, I think you’re right. If we didn’t find out anything, maybe there’s a reason.” He got up from the chair and extended a hand to Janelle. “Thanks for taking the time to see us.”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.” Now she was the one sounding neutral, although in her case it was probably because she wasn’t quite sure what to make of the little she had heard.

  “It’s all right,” he said.

  Kara stood up, too. “We’ve interrupted your day enough, Janelle. Thanks again for letting us come over.”

  “It’s no problem. I was taking advantage of the peace and quiet to do some paperwork anyway.” Her eyes met Kara’s for a second, as if to say, We’ll talk later.

  That’s going to be an interesting conversation, Kara thought, but she only smiled. “Still, it was an imposition, and I’ll make it up to you.”

  “If you insist — ma
ybe you can take me out on one of your UFO tours.”

  “Sure.” If I even have another one, that is…. That was crazy, though. Of course she’d host more tours, once they determined it was safe to do so. When exactly that would be, though, she didn’t have a clue.

  She and Grayson left then, hurrying down the stairs through the heat so they could get to the car as quickly as possible. He waited until they were inside and back out on the street before asking, “So what did happen in there?”

  “You really don’t remember anything?”

  “No. It’s just…black.”

  Like everything before you came here. He’d revealed so little, and the tiny pieces of information he’d let drop had been far from reassuring. So “they” were looking for him. Who exactly were “they”? He hadn’t said anything, but if her theory was true and he really was some sort of lost test pilot or something, then of course whatever branch of the military he was with would be doing everything it could to track him down. If that were the case, then calling Joe Gonzales and asking after any missing persons fitting Grayson’s general description probably wasn’t such a brilliant idea. That could have sent up all sorts of red flags. Then again, if that were true, wouldn’t they have already found him?

  She had no idea. Right now she didn’t know much of anything, except that, despite everything, she was very glad he had come into her life.

  Almost of its own volition, her hand moved from where it rested on the gearshift — a habit she found hard to break even though the Prius was an automatic — and lay down on top of Grayson’s. He gave her a startled look and then smiled.

  “We’re okay?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said, “we’re okay.”

  * * *

  Lance watched as Michael carefully poured sun tea out of the incongruous glass container with strawberries on it that he used to make the concoction and into a pair of tall glasses filled with ice. As much as he would have liked the drink to be something a little stronger than iced tea, he figured three o’clock on a Sunday afternoon was a little early to start bending the elbow.