by T. D. Kohler
Stevens steps out of the van wearing his MIT Bio Suit along with a pair of thin boots and gloves that match his headgear.
Shifting in his gravitational suit, Garrett flexes his arms. “Look at us. We could really scare the neighbors, if this ghost farm actually had some.”
The trio make their way towards the farmhouse and the barn. The fog is showing signs of lifting as the sun settles in the sky above. After a few minutes of wading through the cornfield, Stevens taps a computer screen on his forearm. Reaching out he touches the admiral’s shoulder and whispers, “Admiral, my boots are not sensing any vibrations of vehicles or any kind of movement other than our own. The coast is clear.”
The admiral looks down at his friend’s metallic boots and takes a tired, deep breath. Then he looks back to tell Garrett something, only the corn blocks any signs of the mechanical gorilla suit.
“Harvey—where did you go? Dr. Sensory here says the place is abandoned.” Admiral tries to keep his voice down.
The admiral and Stevens look up and see a mechanical gorilla flying over their heads. They can barely hear obscenities as the suit lands with a large thud.
“That was awesome! Holy shit, that was awesome!” Garrett yells. “Yeah, everyone’s gone! You two can come out now!” Garrett continues to yell as he begins to gingerly walk around, trying not to launch himself into the air again.
He gets turned towards the cornfields as the admiral and Dr. Stevens step into the clearing. “I told you I was not sure how this suit would handle,” Garrett boasts. “It would appear that this totally-awesome suit cannot dummy down to Earth’s weak gravity. In this suit, I have super strength. Like Superman, I can leap over tall buildings. Well, I’m like him before he could fly.”
The admiral and Stevens walk towards their friend. When the admiral reaches him, he puts a hand on his shoulder. “Harvey, you are no Superman. Did you see anything while you were leaping over tall buildings?”
“Well, actually, I had my eyes closed.” Garrett replies while looking down.
The admiral smiles and walks up the steps to the front door. “Now, let’s find out who this guy is?”
The admiral looks through the blackened window, trying to get a glimpse of the mysterious man inside the farmhouse who had chased them away. With no luck he checks the doorknob finding it locked. Looking at his hand, he stretches it out and balls it to a fist then stretches it out again. Examining the poor condition of the wood the handle, he points one finger into a crack leading behind the lock and another finger pointing into the lock itself. The backpack he is wearing starts to quietly hum as ice-cold jets shoot out of the gloved fingers into and behind the lock. The sounds of ice crackling and freezing cut into the hum of the backpack. After a few seconds, the admiral lets go of the handle, balls a fist and slams it down on the handle separating it from the door.
Garrett shuffles himself behind the admiral and watches the handle drop to the porch. “That is incredible,” he says.
Without looking back, the admiral pushes the door open. “And I didn’t have to leap over tall buildings.
You should go look for Lincoln and see what he is getting in to. Clearly, you’re unable to come inside without wrecking the place.”
“Admiral! Admiral! You have got to see this!” They turn to see Stevens hollering, waving his arms, and running from the barn.
Garrett let’s out a laugh. “And you guys made fun of me and the way my suit looks. He looks like a silver-tipped starfish.”
Cracking a smile but still maintaining a serious tone, “What is it, Lincoln? What did you find in the barn?” the admiral asks.
Out of breath, Stevens leans forward putting his hands on his knees.
“You’re going to have to see to believe this. I can’t even put it in words.”
The three make their way around to the back entrance to the barn. Meanwhile, Garrett looks down and pauses by the blood-stained ground where the turkey met its demise the day before. Looking around, he realizes that they went to the barn without him. Bending his knees, he jumps in the air towards the back of the barn.
Murmuring to himself, “Keep your eyes open, keep your eyes open.” Opening his eyes, he watches the barn underneath him as he descends to the ground. Doing some quick math, he realizes that he did not jump high or far enough. “Shit!” Unable to steer, he smashes through the corner of the roof, then crashes down in a three-point stance.
The admiral whips around as Stevens ducks and covers his head. “What the hell was that?”
“That would be our leaping monkey, Beringei,” Stevens says as he looks up at the damaged roof.
“Now what is it we have got to see?” the admiral asks. Surveying the interior of the barn, he makes his way over to a horse stall.
“All I see is an empty, worn-out barn.”
Excited, Stevens spreads his arms. “That’s just it. The interior has to be empty, because the entire floor is a door! I am detecting radio and electronic waves along the entire center of the floor. Something is underneath.”
Observing the vastness of the inside of the barn, the admiral makes his way over to Stevens.
“What the hell would require a door to be that large? And can you find us a way to get it open?”
Stevens starts to scan and map the interior walls of the barn as Garrett shuffles his way next the admiral. “What’s our starfish doing?” Garrett whispers.
“It would appear that this entire floor is a door, and he is trying to locate a way to open it.”
“Does it open in the middle? I mean that would make sense. Rhetorical question, don’t answer that.” Garrett shuffles to the center and locates an edge in the floor. Sliding his foot along the center edge until it tees off near the entrance of the barn, mumbling to himself, “Holy shit, this is huge.”
“There is nothing up here that controls the doors. I have no clue how it opens,” Stevens says as he walks up to the admiral. His attention shifts when he notices Garrett standing and observing the floor. “What’s he doing?”
The admiral folds his arms across his chest. “I’m not sure.”
Stevens yells out across the barn, “Hey, Beringei, there is no way to open these doors from up here!”
Stevens’s jaw drops as his friend reaches into the floor, grabbing one side of the door. The strain of wood cracking fills the barn as the doors lift open. Watching the floor lift, Stevens murmurs, “Impressive!”
Stevens peeks down into the darkness below the floor being lifted, as the admiral examines the doors. The cracking sounds get louder as they hear their friend straining to lift the door the rest of the way. The door starts to push back down, and Stevens and the Admiral take a step back away from Garrett as he continues to strain to swing the doors open.
“Ahhhhhhh! Come on you son of a bitch! Something’s fighting me!” He readjusts his hands and repositions his feet under what he has lifted to be able put his full strength on pushing the door up.
Stevens stands up and snaps towards the entrance of the barn. The LED’s in his headgear are flashing at an incredible speed.
“Admiral, the magnetic-radial waves are back.” Taking a few steps outside he looks above the barn. “Admiral! You need to see this!”
The admiral steps just outside the barn, leaving Beringei to struggle against the giant door, and looks up above the barn. Just then all pressure pushing back down onto Beringei stops. The strength and momentum of Beringei’s pushing sends him flying through the side of the barn flying over the cornfields and out of sight.
Trying to register what is happening as their friend flies into the distance, the admiral and Stevens continue to watch a large object that is hovering above the barn. The barn roof is now open as the object turns 180 degrees.
The admiral can’t fight the feeling that the object is watching them. Tilting his head, he watches the object mimic his subtle movement.
The object appears to be solid metal; however, the hull has a swirl, as if in a liquid state with n
o discernable windows or lighting. The object tilts up as the doors in the roof and floor close back up. The object shifts forward a fraction, as it appears to become blurry as if heat waves were growing around it. Then in the one second, it’s there, and then gone, generating a sonic boom as it disappears. The sonic boom throws the admiral and Stevens to the ground, knocking them out cold.
Crossroads Regional Hospital,
Alexandria, LA
July 19, 1035 hours
Opening her eyes, the room refocuses. In the corner, Director Harris scrolls through a computer pad. Agent Abergathy looks over at him and then back up at the ceiling.
“Please, tell me that’s mine.”
Looking up, he stands and walks over to her bedside. “Agent Abergathy, you’re awake? I do believe that this does belong to you.” Director Harris lays the pad on her bed next to her. “Your level of intelligence is astounding, and from what I hear from the pilot, you know how to think on your feet. Intelligent and resourceful are both sound traits of a field agent.”
Turning her attention to the bed next to her and finding it empty she says, “Sir, what happened to . . .”
The director smiles and puts his hand on her arm to regain her attention.
“Agent Sanchez is fine, with the exception of a broken wrist. He is already on a flight back to Las Vegas. We cannot have anyone with a broken wrist out in the field.”
“Sir, I am sure what we are looking for and what caused our crash is one in the same.” Abergathy tries to sit up.
Putting a hand on her shoulder, he prevents her from sitting up.
“Relax. Lay back down, at least until you regain all of your bearings. We have been looking for this for a year now. It can wait until you fully recover.”
Abergathy pushes his hand away from her shoulder and sits up completely. “Sir, I am fine. If that was it, then it has left. I need to find where it was.”
Stepping back, he says, “I had a hunch there was some bulldog in you, another good trait for a field agent, tenacity. And I had my own hunch that you were not going to let this rest. So, I already have flown in your new partner. We can’t have agents going into the field alone. Agent Carol, can you come here?”
“Sir, I have a partner.”
The director grins. “And he was sent home, because you broke that one.”
“Sir, I had no control. You know that was not my fault!”
“I know, I know, calm down. Just giving you a hard time. Besides Agent Carol is an outstanding field agent. And she is from around this part of the woods and would be a Yen to your Yang, or Yang to your Yen.”
In the doorway an athletic, attractive woman enters the room. “Director?”
“Agent Roynika Carol, come on in. I would like for you to meet Agent Kristen Abergathy. She broke her last partner and is need of a new one.” He gets a quick, sharp look from Abergathy. “I believe you two will get along great.”
The women each take a moment to look each other over then they both turn to the director, as if they were waiting for him to say something further. Realizing that is his cue, he says, “I will bid you two good luck, and remember, I need regular status updates. Meanwhile I have to fly to Memphis. Broken agents always create a lot of paperwork.”
Turning to exit, Director Harris stops at the doorway and turns back, looking at Agent Carol. “Make sure you call your mother.”
Expressionless, she nods. “Yes, sir, I will.”
A heavy pause fills the room as they watch the director turn and leave. Abergathy looks over her new partner. “Agent Carol . . .”
“Please, if we are going to be partners, call me Nika.”
“Nika it is then.” Smiling and reaching her arm out to shake hands. “You can call me Kristen.”
Carol pauses and looks down at the extended hand. “No offense, it’s not exactly a phobia, but I have difficulty shaking someone’s hand that I just met.”
With a puzzled look, Abergathy drops her hand, taking another quick look over. It dawns on her that her new partner is wearing long sleeves and gloves that almost match her skin tone. On her left side near her collarbone appears to be skin grafting. Thinking the reason for not offering her hand has something to do with a serious accident and that she will let her know when she is ready, Abergathy smiles and raises her hands. “Fair enough.”
Carol takes a quick moment to look at the door. “From what I read on the report, as well as your findings,” she raises her hands to show no foul, “the director had me skim the file and since I had no idea what I was looking at. It would appear that I am only here to watch your back.”
Throwing her sheet off of her, Abergathy swings her feet off the bed. “I’ll tell you what, get me out of here, and I will bring you up to speed.”
Carol offers her a mischievous grin. “Are you hungry? There is an excellent Cajun restaurant called Roy’s Catfish Hut that’s not too far from the epicenter.”
Changing into her clothes, Abergathy says, “Excellent. Wait . . . epicenter?”
“Oh yeah, you were taking a power nap. With your findings, Port Arthur’s and AEX’s mysterious radar contact and your near mid-air collision . . .”
Cutting her new partner off, Abergathy walks past her towards the door while finishing getting dressed. “I’ll tell you what, you get me out of here, and we can compare notes.”
Carol gives her a quick, firm nod. “Well you know the best way to hide is in plain sight. So, let’s see how far we can get by just walking out.” With that they walk out of the room with a purpose and not looking around.
Abergathy tries not to laugh as she notices that the nurses at the counter never took their attention away from flirting with the police officers.
Without a hitch, the two agents make it outside. The humidity is heavy as Abergathy comes to an abrupt stop, as if she ran into a wall. Sweat forms across her brow.
“Ugh, is it always like this?”
Shaking her head and smiling, Carol keeps walking. Raising her keys, she disengages the alarm on a black Ford Focus. The chirp chirp of the alarm catches Agent Abergathy’s attention. “A black car in this heat?”
“Heat? You’re from Las Vegas. C’mon let’s go.”
Abergathy sticks out her bottom lip and pretends to stomp her feet. “But it’s a dry heat.”
The ladies look at each other and then start to laugh. Carol opens the door. “C’mon, let’s go. I’m hungry. Oh, by the way, nice bra.”
Deserted Farm,
Dry Creek, LA
July 19, 1539 hours
The Admiral and Stevens remain out cold, lying on the ground in front of the farmhouse. A murder of crows land next to them and begin to turn their heads as they survey the area. A moan escapes the Admiral, sending them scattering.
The caws from the crows cause Stevens to sit up, frantically waving his arms. He looks over to the Admiral, and seeing him still knocked out, he starts monitoring his vitals. The Admiral’s blood pressure and pulse rate are elevated. Noticing the rapid movement of his eyelids, Stevens decides to sit back and let him rest.
“What does an admiral dream about?”
2014
Cushing, OK
October 10, 1318 hours
A Navy Seals team is gathered around a table playing dominoes when Admiral Julian Kay walks up. One of the men notices someone walking towards them, and recognizing who it is, he announces, “Attention on deck!”
The admiral motions for them to take it down a notch. “At ease, gentlemen, relax. Where are we at? Petty Officer . . .?”
The leading petty officer who spotted the admiral remains at attention. “Michaels, sir. We were not aware that you would be here or a part of this mission.”
Sticking out his chest, the admiral goads the petty officer, “Are you saying I am too old to have any fun, Petty Officer Michaels?”
The other Seals look at each other, trying not to laugh and waiting for their SO1’s answer.
Michaels’s shoulders relax. “No,
sir, it’s just that . . . well . . . you missed the fun. We have already detained the individual and some of his equipment.”
Raising an eyebrow, the admiral looks around the surrounding area. “Has anyone interrogated the detainee?”
A sense of renewed nervousness and suspicion takes over the petty officer. “No, sir, we are tasked to stand guard while a team is down below sanitizing the area.”
The admiral walks around the table towards the entrance of the large tent when the SO1 steps to stop him from entering it. “Sir, I cannot let you enter.”
The admiral turns with an icy glare. “SO1, you have your assignment and I have mine. It would be smart of you to step back and allow me to do mine. Do I make myself understood?”
“Yes, sir, you are understood.”
The admiral turns and walks into the tent, closing it back up behind him.
The petty officer quickly turns to his men. “Something’s not right here. We would have been told that Admiral Kay was going to be the interviewer.”
Putting his domino hand down, a fellow Seal shakes his head.
“Mik, drop it will you? This is Admiral Julian Kay we are talking here. The man is a legend in our world.”
“I damn well know who Admiral Kay is, but something is not right.” He pauses to gather his thoughts. “Stay here, finish your game, and keep an eye on the tent. Make sure that nobody leaves that tent until I get back. Is that clear?”
In unison, the remaining Seals nod and acknowledge, “Yes, SO1.”
Inside the tent, Admiral Kay approaches a young and extremely fit man sitting in a chair with his hands tied behind his back. Taking a moment to assess the man, the admiral stands across from him.
“Dr. Harvey Garrett?”
Garrett twists and turns his upper body, trying to work his restraints. “How do you know my name? Nobody here has even asked me my name.” Noticing that the man in front of him is not showing any emotions, he puts his large shoulders back against the chair.
