by Lysa Daley
Fitz’s crew scrambles to locate this area on their maps.
“I believe I saw something notated on one of the satellite images,” Simmons replies, pulling up a series of dark photos on her tablet. “It said it’s a hazardous waste storage facility.”
“Putnam Pointe used to be some sort of military base,” Chad explains, “Then it was turned into a huge nuclear fallout shelter in the 50s.”
“My grandpa said people were super worried about nuclear war back in the day,” Ruby tells us. “After all, California isn’t that far from the east coast of Russia.”
Tanaka adds, “The Putnam Pointe Army base was meant to house thousands of people. But eventually, the government turned it into a radioactive waste storage facility back in the 70s.”
“It’s a pretty remote location, nestled deep in one of the valleys,” Chad continues. “I’ve hiked out there, and it’s pretty heavily guarded by the army or someone.”
“No,” O’Malley scowls and shakes his head firmly. “There’s shouldn’t be any military personnel out there. It’s been out of commission for twenty years. At least.”
“Mister, I’m just telling you what I’ve seen,” Chad contradicts scary O’Malley. “And I’ve seen guards out there.”
The adults exchange looks, and Fitz says, “Interesting. Pull up the current satellite images.”
Fingers flying, Tanaka types into his keyboard eventually bringing up a grainy black and white satellite video on his laptop. “Looks like the kid is right.” Tanaka points to tiny moving dots on the satellite. “Someone’s out there.”
“If it’s Horlocks and Grails, we can expect them to be armed to the teeth,” O’Malley says darkly. “It’s not going to be easy to get in there when they make the handoff.”
“How do we make our approach,” Simmons asks.
Tanaka shakes his head. “No matter which way we approach, they’re going to see us. From their point of view, this is a very secure location.”
“What about the back entrance?” Chad tentatively offers.
“Back entrance?” Fitz asks.
Chapter 5
“There’s no way a backdoor exists." Tanaka studies the schematics and shakes his head. “Any alternate entrance would have been barricaded decades ago.”
"Except I've seen it,” Chad argues. “With my own eyes.”
“When?” Fitz asks, his interest more than piqued. “Recently?”
“I haven’t hiked that way for a couple of months. It’d be easy to miss because it’s pretty much covered up by dirt and shrubs,” Chad explains. “But it's there. And it’s not barricaded.“
“Have you tried to open it?” Simmons asks.
“With all those hazardous-radiation signs posted everywhere?” Chad knits his brow. “No way.”
“Not to mention all the creepy stories about people disappearing out there,” Ruby adds. “And sightings of some crazy lizard-man thing.”
“The lizard-man?” I ask,
“There have been rumors and wives-tales about a tall lizard creature out in the foothills for years,” Fitz states. “It’s likely it’s Draconians. Probable, even. But right now, we need to know if Chad thinks he can get us to this hidden back door?”
Chad nods. “I’m pretty sure I can.”
“Our intel says that the hand-off will happen at midnight,” Simmons says. “So we need to get moving.”
After consulting a detailed map of the area, Chad outlines the route. It’s past 11 p.m. by the time our group piles into two army-issue Humvees.
Chad directs us past a scattering of farms and ranches until we're winding through an empty maze of rough, twisting mountain roads. We drive east, deeper into the pitch black canyon.
Ruby points to a lit yellow sign warning us about radioactivity and says, “Guess we're headed the right way.”
After we pass another half a dozen warning signs within about two miles, I whisper to Ruby. “Someone really doesn’t want people wandering around out here.”
Chad pipes up. ”There should be a small parking area just beyond that turn.” Chad directs the caravan through a narrow canyon road that opens up to a flat mesa. “But from here, we’re going to have to hike the rest of the way in.”
“I think leaving militarized Humvees in the parking lot might be a little too much of a giveaway,” Fitz says, directing the vehicles to pull off into the shrubby brush where we’re less likely to be noticed.
We all disembark in the darkness. Fitz and his team suit up, complete with futuristic alien guns. I see Chad and Ruby eyeing the weapons, but neither asks about them. They’ve both seen enough lately to know better.
Skirting along the edge of the dimly lit parking area, it becomes painfully clear that the only way into the canyon is to hike down a dangerously steep, twisting path.
Fighting our way through the darkness, while trying to remain quiet, our group makes it to the floor of the canyon.
It’s quiet. Like, weirdly quiet. I clutch BrightSky a little tighter at my side.
In the blue moonlight, Chad points toward the general area where he believes the entrance is located.
Fitz sends O’Malley and Simmons ahead to do a little recon. As they disappear into the shadows, a ripple of fear goes through me. We can’t blow this. If we do, I’ll never see my uncle again.
“Well, the kid’s right,” Simmons says upon her return. “The door is there. Must be some sort of maintenance entrance.”
“And it’s unlocked," O’Malley adds. “By the amount of debris and spider webs, it appears as if no one’s been out here in a while.”
Our group quietly marches in a line toward the back entrance to the abandoned facility. And by "facility" I basically mean a big metal door built into the side of the mountain.
After we pass the third radiation warning sign, Fitz looks worried. "How high are the levels?"
“I’m getting something.” Tanaka studies the readings on a high-tech radiation meter. “The Geiger counter is giving me a minimal reading right here. But we've got a good wind blowing, and we're at the farthest end of the facility. Let's see if the levels stay low once we get inside."
"Everyone has to agree to enter at their own risk," Fitz announces. “Even though the radiation reading is low here, this place could be contaminated with dangerously high radioactive levels at any point.”
"Then I should be the only one to go inside," I say, looking out over the group. “Radiation won't affect me like it will affect you guys."
“You don’t know that,” Fitz argues.
“I sort of do.” Because I’m not exactly human, I have a higher tolerance to most things that affect humans on this planet. “Anyway, there's no way I can live with myself if one of you gets sick because of this."
Everyone is looking at me, but no one is saying anything because they’re all silently thinking exactly what I’m thinking.
“Honestly, I’m tempted to keep all of you kids out here,” Fitz counters my idea. “But… since the levels are so low, we’ll see what happens as we progress. If it changes, then all three of you are ordered to immediately evacuate. Do you understand?”
The three of us nod.
“I’ve got the schematics, sir.” Simmons hands Fitz a digital tablet. “Unfortunately, anything in the records will probably be at least 20 years old."
"Don't think anyone's done any major redecorating lately.” Fitz shrugs as the schematics come up on the screen. "So this should, at least, give us the lay of the land."
The thick metal door groans as O’Malley opens it. The flashlights beam cuts across a long, narrow hallway.
“Radiation readings remains steady,” Tanaka says.
Fitz's team initially enters, with guns pointed, to clear the area. The rest of the group follows down the dimly lit hallway with cement floors and cinder block walls. It feels very 1950s.
As we walk, Simmons explains that when the Putnam Pointe facility was initially built, it was supposed to be a fallout shelter large
enough to house a couple thousand people in the event of an atomic attack. Several entrances and exits were built, each with the ability to be blocked off to protect the people within.
Tanaka’s eyes stay glued to the radiation meter with every step. Twenty feet down the corridor, he reacts, "Whoa!"
“Everyone hold up,” Fitz orders and the group stops. "How bad is it?"
Tanaka jiggles the meter, shocked by whatever the radioactive meter reads. "Depends on what you mean by bad.”
Chapter 6
Fitz tenses up. “C’mon, Tanaka. What’s the reading? Do I need to get these kids out of here?”
Tanaka looks up, his face blank. ”There are no readings. At all. Nothing.”
"How do you mean?" Fitz doesn’t understand.
“There’s barely a trace reading of radiation in here," he continues. “My meters are entirely clear."
"How could that be?" I ask.
"I don't know," Tanaka replies. “It’s like there was only a small amount of radiation back near the door.”
“Maybe it was meant to discourage us from entering,” O’Malley suggests.
“Who would do that?” Simmons asks. “And why?”
“Someone who wants to keep people out." Fitz is already advancing down the cement hallway, his strange alien weapon at the ready. “Tanaka, keep an eye on those readings, and let me know if they change.”
As our group creeps forward, the heavy silence feels strangely eerie. Stale air permeates everything around us like we've cracked open a tomb that's been undisturbed for centuries.
"Hey, pal." Ruby slides up next to me and slips her hand in mine. Glancing at her nervous smile, I realize I've never seen her look afraid.
"Hey, buddy." I squeeze her hand and offer a little reassuring smile.
“I’m expecting the lizard-man to jump out at any second,” she whispers.
I quietly laugh, but honestly, I’m half-expecting the same thing.
Leading the way, Simmons holds the glowing tablet, reading the schematics. "Looks like at the end of the next hallway, we should reach storage area alpha, the largest of the containment storage areas. It's where the least contaminated waste was supposedly kept."
“Do you think it’s still there?” Chad asks, nervously.
“There’s no indication that it’s been removed,” Simmons replies.
“Still no radiation,” Tanaka reports as we head toward the storage areas.
When Fitz and his guys push open the unlocked doors to vast storage area alpha, there are exactly zero drums filled with waste. No metal containers of any type. “This is weird.”
Instead, we stand gaping at row after row of army cots. Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands.
“Beds?" Ruby says. “Again?”
Fitz turns to Ruby. “You’ve seen something like this before?”
“When Sunglasses guy and his crew took us to the underground government facility, they had an area just like this. Except smaller. Way smaller.
Fitz’s eyes flick over to his team, then back to us. His expression remains somber. If he knows something, he's not telling.
“This must be the old fallout shelter?" Simmons offers.
“Except everything is brand new,” O’Malley adds.
He’s right. Each cot is covered with what looks like brand new sheets, a pillow, and a gray wooly blanket.
Standing in the dim gloom at the front of the group, Fitz peers across a vast empty area. When he turns around, he isn't smiling. "I don't like it. It’s too open. We’ll be sitting ducks out there.”
“Do we have another choice?“ O’Malley inquires, his big weapon at the ready. “This is the only way to the forward area. It’s getting close to midnight.”
“We’re out of options, sir,” Tanaka adds.
Quiet as church mice, our group creeps along the perimeter of the huge room. It’s like a cross between the world’s biggest summer camp cabin and a mausoleum.
As we approach the front entrance, O’Malley and Tanaka, who have taken the lead as the point men, spot a pair of security guards in dark suits a hundred yards in front of us.
Our group hangs back, and Fitz listens though the comm headsets. Before the suits know what happened, O’Malley and Tanaka have immobilized them. When the area has been secured, we continue advancing.
By the time we reach O’Malley and Tanaka, they’ve changed into the dark suits the guards were wearing.
“Nice job, men,” Fitz nods.
"Who are all those creepy black suits anyway?" Chad quietly asks Fitz. "Are they really working for the government? Our government?”
"They are," Fitz nods solemnly. "They’ve infiltrated a faction of the Immigration Department."
"Immigration!" I laugh. "Is that a joke? There’s a whole bunch of aliens filling out paperwork to move to this planet?"
“They’re called Horlocks, and they've long since gone rogue,” Fitz replies, not laughing at my joke. “The government can't control them. No one can. They're humans that are now under the control of the Draconian and the Greys. They wear sunglasses all the time because they've been physically altered.”
"Sunglasses guy,” I mutter as the pieces fall together.
Fitz nods. "We think he's the local ringleader. At last count, there were at least half a dozen Horlocks under his command here in Ocean Grove. Probably more by now.“
I have more questions, like how exactly are the Horlocks altered and why can’t the government control them, but Fitz turns to strategize with the rest of his team for the ambush. The plan is to take down the alien craft as it approaches causing enough of a diversion to grab my uncle and retreat.
“What about us?” I ask after everyone else has been given an assignment except me, Ruby and Chad.
“You three stay back here, out of the way and don’t get yourselves killed,” he says as he starts to walk away.
“C’mon!” I protest. “You can’t bring us all the way out here and then leave us out of everything.”
“We want to help.” Chad backs me up.
Without warning, the whole building begins to shake. Then, the entire roof of the facility rises, like the flat top of the mountain is the lid of a metal soup can being curled open. What’s even more incredible is that the whole area is the size of a square city block.
Chad grabs my arm with one hand and points to the sky with the other hand. “Astrid, look!”
From the inky darkness above us, an enormous alien spaceship has begun to slowly descend.
I glance at my watch to see that it’s exactly midnight.
Chapter 7
With the entire roof of the building now standing perpendicular to the ground, one ginormous landing pad has been created. It’s an incredible sight.
From where we stand down on the ground, the massive spaceship almost looks magical with twinkling fairy-like lights visible.
But as it descends, coming closer, we get a better sense of what a terrifying warship it really is, with a rough and spiked exterior, similar to dark reptilian skin. There’s not a smooth surface anywhere.
Powerful engines thrust into reverse, slowing the landing. The massive engines shoot flames one hundred feet long down toward us, superheating the air.
“Whoa.” Ruby grabs my arm. “I don’t like this.”
I don’t either. But there’s no turning back now. Somehow, we have to stop them before they take my uncle.
Everyone is so focused on watching the massive alien ship that we almost don’t notice that out on the western horizon, a caravan of ten, maybe twelve, black SUVs has appeared, kicking up a sandstorm of dust as they approach.
“Horlocks visible,” crackles a voice through the comm unit.
In one of those SUVs is my uncle.
They’ve timed this handoff with exact precision. The deafening noise from the alien ship has made normal conversation impossible. But through our earpieces, I can hear the team evaluate the situation.
“If I’m not mistaken, that’
s a Draconian A Class W.X. transport unit,” Tanaka states.
“Impossible,” Fitz replies. “They haven’t come this far into our quadrant. One has never been positively identified in our solar system.”
“Man-o-man, that sure looks like the description of a small Draconian clipper.”
“Small” is the word that I bump on. The spaceship descending toward us happens to be the size of a large aircraft carrier.
“Dammit, I don’t think we can take that down,” Fitz says.
“No,” O’Malley’s gruff voice breaks through. “But we might be able to do enough damage to cause a diversion.”
My earpiece crackles as Simmons’ voice comes through. “We have eyes on the prize. He’s in the second car.”
“Okay people,” Fitz’s voice says. “We are a go! Repeat - we are a go!”
The timing for the handoff couldn’t be more perfect. The spaceship silently touches down just as the line of SUVs pulls in. The black suits, like ants in the night, pour out of the vehicles.
Chad takes my hand in his. “Are you ready?”
The only think I can think to say is, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
We watch as Sunglasses and two additional agents lead my uncle to the base of the walkway. He’s in his blue alien form.
I struggle to get a good look at my Uncle Conrad. Even from this distance, I can see that his eyes are swollen, and his cheeks are bruised like someone beat him up. Metal shackles bind his hands and feet.
A primal anger rises from deep inside of me. I can’t stand to see him this way.
Two Draconians appear from inside the ship. Neither of them is the oversized Crimson Lord, the evil leader of the Draconian race. But they have a similar otherworldly predatorily face including a scaled forehead rising to a peaked skull along with graduated dark greenish-yellow reptilian skin.
The Horlocks are about to hand my uncle over to the two Draconians. We don't have much time. I'm getting really, really nervous. We can’t miss our window of opportunity to rescue him.
