by Barlow,M
The ruckus enticed nervous feet movements upstairs and more whispers. He’d give them all the time they needed. Alex walked past the body to the stove as if nothing happened, and to his delight, a teakettle was on the stove.
Well, this rules out Americans.
He recalled the looks Americans gave him when he’d ordered green tea in Starbucks in the US, even though it was an item on the menu. Alex felt as if he’d used Russian kerosene and Chinese matches to burn the American flag in the middle of the store.
Alex poured himself a cup of tea and added a spoon of sugar. Australians were the only people he knew who drank coffee in the morning and tea in the afternoon, or vice versa. The place was as quiet as a haunted house, but he knew it was a fake facade. Alex took his tea to the living area and sat down on the couch and switched on the TV.
A game of soccer was on. His parents pushed him to play soccer growing up because it was safer than footie. The guys in his old army unit suggested a pickup game—for bonding—which made him fantasize about having more fists, so he could punch them all at the same time. Maybe Shara could help him turn that beautiful dream into reality.
“Stand up, turn around. Don’t do anything stupid.” A cold, commanding voice with a thick accent came from behind him from the direction of the staircase.
Alex was relieved. He put the teacup down on the coffee table and stood up. With a calm smile on his face, he turned around. The extraction team surrounded him.
With his hands lifted in the air, he looked at thirty armed soldiers ready to tear him a new one. Alex was in a tough spot, but he wasn’t afraid. He could feel so much power inside him. He could run into the house, smash through the walls, and come out on the other side, unscathed. A part of him wanted to fight, to put his powers to the test, and the rest of him agreed.
“Is this about the tea?”
“Quiet,” a soldier said.
“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” The team Captain asked.
With the same confident smile on his face, Alex lowered his hands. “I’m your official tour guide. Today we’re going on a walkabout.”
The Captain’s eyebrows rose with a brief look of surprise that was replaced by one of anger. He realized they no longer had the element of surprise. The Captain picked up his phone and dialed a number.
“Sir, the Agency knows we’re here,” the Captain said on the phone. “They sent an intelligence agent to eliminate us.”
“One agent?” A surprised voice, with a thicker accent answered the Captain.
Alex smiled. “They’re not allowed to cut the agents in half any more. Human-rights thing – don’t ask.” He was killing it today. Shara enhanced his jokes, too.
Delegations continued on the phone for a while. Alex wondered how they mobilize a decent extraction team on a short notice?
Seconds before he died of boredom, the voice came through. “Kill him and carry on with the mission.”
“Yes, sir,” the Captain said. The call ended, and he swung around to face Alex. “Sorry funny man!”
He pulled the trigger.
Alex lifted his hand in a defensive motion, and the bullet stopped midair. His thoughts became a wall that held the bullet still.
He pushed his palm forward and down. The bullet changed course to hit the Captain in the foot. To add insult to the injury, Alex punched him in the nose.
Just like his mind, Alex’s muscles were in overdrive. His blood was pumping, and his brain handled everything with ease, and with excess capacity to solve the world’s theoretical physics dilemmas. He was on fire.
He moved between the soldiers. Alex pushed the last soldier in the chest with open palm. The man flew to the wall behind him and dropped unconscious. The rest of the team spun around, retreated to formation, and stepped back. In a coordinated motion, they fired their weapons.
Alex raised his palms and stopped their bullets before they reached him. He lowered his hands, and the bullets dropped to the ground. Then he dashed between the soldiers. With his speed, they were sitting ducks. He hit his target, and they missed theirs every time. Alex took them out, one at a time. He was there in their faces, pushing them, lifting their bodies, and smashing them against the walls and against each other.
Within a minute, the entire team lay on the floor unconscious except for the Captain who watched in disbelief. A small pool of blood around his foot. “How did you…?”
“The alien,” Alex said. “The one you came here to capture. She gave me these powers like this enhanced speed, telekinesis, and a few mind tricks. Believe me, I did you a favor. If she’d been here, she would’ve massacred your team in the blink of an eye.” He winked at the Captain. “She is better looking though!”
Alex walked back to the couch to grab his cup of tea. Nice, still warm.
The Captain wiped the blood off his nose. “You think we’re lucky? I wish I can say the same to you. You would’ve been lucky if our mission had been successful. My people will keep coming. They will hit harder and harder until you break.”
Alex took a long sip of the warm tea. “Do your worst.”
“You can’t hoard the aliens. You can’t deny everyone else access. And you can’t fight the rest of the world,” the Captain said, waving his fist in Alex’s face.
“We can try.”
The Captain reached a small gun strapped to his ankle. He pulled it and aimed at Alex. Before his finger squeezed the trigger, Alex pushed his left palm down. The Captain’s head banged against the wooden floor.
“Thanks for the tea,” Alex said and threw a small, button-looking device on the ground. If they recovered consciousness, they’d be paralyzed until the agents deactivated the effect.
As he left the house, he called Noah. “I’m done, send extraction.”
“Good work!” Noah’s voice came through. “I’m at the bar across the Agency.”
“At nine thirty in the morning? Picked up a habit, have we?”
Noah Chuckled. “I’m having breakfast.”
“All right, I’ll have breakfast, too.”
The drive was short. When he arrived, Alex walked straight to the bar where Noah, the only customer, was chatting with the old bartender. Alex pulled a seat next to him.
Noah tilted his head and winked. “I thought you’d fly here.”
Alex’s smile widened. He ordered himself a Big Breakfast and a coffee. It had been a weird twenty-four hours, but there he was, having breakfast with Noah like nothing had changed.
A quick glance at Noah told him something was wrong. He was staring at his empty coffee—silent as a statue which was typical for Matt but not Noah. Noah always found a philosophical subject or a topic of the day to discuss, many subjects if he was sleep-deprived or had too much coffee. He could go on for hours. This morning, Noah tried to say something, but he couldn’t find the words.
“I’m sorry!”
The words took Alex off guard. Noah never apologized. As in never. One time Alex was almost shot when Noah sent him to the wrong room by mistake on an assignment. All he got was ‘gotta work on your reflexes, kid’.
“Is my wife okay?”
Noah’s breakfast arrived. He thanked the waiter and cut his delicious-looking sausages into small, juicy pieces. “I was wrong to let Shara manipulate your brain today to keep my assignment intact.”
“Don’t be. The enhancement is the best thing that’s happened to me. Don’t tell my wife I said that. She’ll insist our wedding should be the best thing, and I don’t have money for jewelry.”
Noah shoved a piece of sausage and a large mushroom in his mouth. “There is something else.”
The aroma of the sausages made him salivate. Alex took another sip of his coffee and cursed Noah under his tongue.
“What is it?”
Noah waited until the bartender disappeared into the kitchen. “We’re monitoring for the Queen’s arrival, and I want you on the ship with Shara, ready for takeoff when she does.”
Alex raise
d his eyebrows. “I thought you’d fight me for the honor, not that you’d win.”
Noah moved to the grilled tomato, Alex’s favorite. “I can’t leave Canberra. There is something that requires my undivided attention.”
“You mean, how they found out about Shara?”
Noah chewed his food. “I notified the Egyptian Intelligence Agency. Also, the CIA team is here, and I want one of them aboard the ship with you. It’s easier than bringing them up to speed after the fact.”
Alex smiled impishly. He knew his boss wasn’t ready to discuss the rotten egg in the ASIO fridge. “The CIA called in a favor, didn’t they?”
Noah cleaned his plate. “You’re worse than Matt.”
“Is he giving you a hard time?”
“Yeah,” Noah said, “and, seeing how you’re taking your time here, I’m sure it will happen again.”
Alex glared at him. “What do you want me to do? Go to the kitchen and punch the chef?”
Noah smiled. “I’ll schedule you for a psych eval.”
*****
Jane looked through the window of the SUV—last year’s model, a 2029 Land Rover in all its towering, hulking, three-axled glory. From her vantage point, four feet above the shifting and blowing sands of the Egyptian desert, she could see no lights in any direction. The quiet hum of the SUV and the baseball-glove smell of the new leather were the only comforts as the sun went down. There would have been hot chocolate at the hotel at Luxor – if they could find it.
When. When they find it. Not if.
“Paul, we’re lost.”
“We are not lost.” He pointed to his left, and his finger tapped the glass like the beak of a hungry bird rummaging through foliage. “Luxor is this way. I’m sure of it. But I’m thinking we need to wait for daylight. Once we find the Nile, we make a left. And I sure as hell don’t want to drive into the river in the dark.”
“It’s okay, baby,” his voice continued, cool and level. “We can’t miss it.” He ceased his tapping and flicked a blunt nail against the compass, which was still showing NORTH no matter which way they turned. He punched the brushed-metal dashboard.
Still NORTH.
The sun was falling behind the small hill ahead, and the sky turned crimson, giving the landscape a bloody look that matched her hair color. It would’ve been romantic from her hotel balcony, but given their tough situation, the prospect of complete darkness made her nervous.
Even for Paul, this was a new one. She didn’t think they could top their honeymoon in Ecuador. Paul’s brilliant idea to “live” the Amazon by booking an adventure trip in which they’d have the “luxury” of parachuting in at the Peruvian border and then hitchhiking and bushwhacking 200 miles to a five-star hotel in Quinto. They’d lived the hell out of the Amazon, all right.
As much as it made her crazy, she loved him for it.
“I have an idea,” Paul said and exited the car.
She glanced at the hot air vent and the precious warmth it pushed into her hands and face. “Are you sure it’s wise to leave the car? The night is cold, and there are cobras and scorpions everywhere.”
He pointed to the small hill. “We need to get to a higher vantage point. We might spot a landmark, or even better, the city lights.”
Jane hesitated for two seconds before she followed him into the cold desert. They reached the flat side of the hill. She climbed after Paul until they got to the flattish top. Paul’s shoulders slumped, and he breathed out in frustration. He picked up his phone and switched it on, hoping to find coverage. They’d kept their phones off and had switched them on only when they needed to check for network. The screen came alive with a short, monotonous sound. She craned her neck and peeked at the bright screen. As she expected, no reception.
She felt something moving under her feet. Under the dim moonlight, the yellow sand turned bright green, and with a hissing sound, it slipped forward and formed a long tentacle that lunged toward her husband. He fell. Jane screamed and grabbed his hand and helped him to his feet. They ran to the car as if they were being chased by flesh eating monsters. All she could hear was heavy breathing. It could’ve been his. It could’ve been hers.
Paul jumped into the car, and as soon as she climbed in, he floored the gas and turned the car around in the opposite direction. Her eyes were glued to the side mirror where she could see the green tentacle, chasing them. Other tentacles popped up all around the small hill.
“Go, honey. Go!”
*****
Area 51
December 21, 2030
On the surface, Area 51 was a small restricted military site in the middle of the desert with nothing but air defenses and a building that contained elevators.
The real Area 51—the one Mara had been after—was an underground complex that extended for kilometers. Malik gave her a tour through the different sections of the complex. He showed her the manufacturing facilities with the latest military R&D in airships, weapons, and deterrents. He explained everything in great detail and with a hint of pride in his voice.
The tour would’ve had any human jumping and screaming in excitement, but it had failed to impress her—parts of the tour put her to sleep. Futuristic breakthroughs on Earth were what Mara would find in a history hall on Korr.
“The Roswell Wing is next,” Malik said, with the same excited tone he maintained for the past hour.
A small ship was in the middle of a great hall behind a glass wall. Once Malik waved his palm, and the door opened, Mara dashed inside, her eyes glowing.
The ship had a long tubular body with a pointy front end, a glass-like material on top of the body, and a small door in the curved back end. The ship’s body and the two flat, round wings were made of silver metal. During the crash, the right wing sustained significant damage as did the clear glass above the pilot seat. The ship’s interior remained intact. They squeezed four comfortable chairs and wide dashboard, facing the two front seats.
“When did you capture it?”
“In 1947.”
Mara found many rumors on the internet about the event, but they were unconfirmed. Until now.
A surveillance ship. Mara felt as foolish as she did the day of the invasion when a large, powerful army appeared in the sky of Korr out of nowhere.
“I can’t believe we missed that,” she said, her voice soft.
Malik’s eyes widened in confusion.
She hovered closer to the ship. “The ship had been here for decades before you found it. They’ve been watching you.”
“Who are they?”
Mara pointed at the vessel. “This is a Manakari ship—a hostile alien race—most likely for surveillance. It’s fast with medium armor and light weapons. It has no energy shield or deep-space drive.”
“How did it get here, then?”
“Have you heard about the Tunguska event?”
“No.”
“I’m not surprised, it was a long time ago,” Mara said. “In 1907, a meteor exploded a few kilometers above Siberia and flattened an area of 2,000 kilometers. The meteor was two hundred meters in diameter.”
Her words added to his confusion. “How is this related to the ship?”
“The explosion was devastating,” Mara continued as if she didn’t hear him. “Oddly, it didn’t create an impact crater. I believe the mothership exploded that day, not a meteor like your scientists suggested.” Mara circled the ship and examined the four seats. “Did you find the pilots?”
Malik’s eyes narrowed. “We found a dead pilot. From his injuries, I’d say he died on impact when the ship crashed.”
Mara examined the dead navigation panel and shook her head. “If Shara was here, she could tell you more. But there had to be two aliens on this ship when it crashed. The second must is hiding somewhere.”
Malik’s jaw dropped. “You think an alien has been living on Earth for more than a century without detection? That’s crazy!”
“You found us because we allowed it.” Mara pointed to the sh
ip. “When they landed, evading detection would’ve been even easier.”
“Can you help us locate him?”
“He uses a powerful signal to communicate with the Manakaris fleet. It is stronger than anything you use to communicate. Find the signal, and you’ll find him.”
Before he asked another question, Mara hovered toward a narrow corridor to the left. They tucked away the dead pilot in a small chamber. Mara looked through the glass at the six-foot tall alien.
They preserved him in a liquid-filled, glass cylinder. Mara didn’t hide her hate when she looked at the large head, the long arms and legs, the frail frame with protruding bones, and the haunting look in the blue eyes that occupied half the oval face.
“He’s decaying.”
Malik shrugged. “That’s how he looked when I saw him last year.”
An agent walked into the large hall. “They’re ready.”
“We’ll be there in a minute,” Malik said and watched the agent leave. He sighed and lowered his eyes to the floor as if he lost a duel. “The Secretary of State and the CIA and NSA directors arrived to meet with you in person. They’re waiting.”
Mara chuckled. “I was wondering why you stretched the tour?”
He smiled.
They had that in common. Mara didn’t like meetings either. They undoubtedly had a mountain of questions as high as their ranks.
“There is an upside,” Malik said. “The Secretary of Defense will not attend the meeting.”
“That’s the commander of the army?”
“Yes.”
That was good news because even though she spared his men, the property damage and humiliation were enough to push him over the edge.
“Let’s not make them wait,” Mara said.
They exited the Roswell Wing into the hallway and walked to a meeting room.
The CIA director smiled at her as she stepped inside. Mara remembered his picture from the agency’s online network.
“Thank you for joining us.”
Mara flashed a polite smile on her face. Her mother would be proud. “My pleasure!”
She wasn’t about to sit through a dreadful meeting and watch them bicker. “I could show one person what you need to know.” The only thing worse than her world being destroyed was living it over and over again.
