FreeForm: An Alien Invasion Romance Series (FreeForm Series Book 1)

by Orrin Jason Bradford

  They were still fifty yards from the ship when they saw Pat sprinting through the gully following almost the exact path of the deer. She's limping some too, Oliver thought, and favoring her left side. What's going on here? He wondered. As she drew nearer, she shouted at the top of her lungs between gasps for air.

  "Get outta here. It's going to blow! Get out!"

  All four men stopped short in their tracks as Pat's warning reached them.

  "What did she say?" James asked, the color draining from his face, suggesting he had really understood.

  Oliver made a quick decision. "No time --just do what she says. Back to the copters -- now!"

  Without hesitation the other three men followed their boss's order and hightailed it back to their respective copters. Oliver hung back a little and waited for Pat to catch up. As the two of them ran towards the copters he couldn't help but ask.

  "What's going on here? Did you get pictures?" Oliver noticed the bruises and scraps across her face and neck. A fresh trickle of blood stained her right temple and deep creases of pain lined her face.

  "No time . . . " Pat gasped, then came to an abrupt stop. Her right hand flew to her neck, a look of anguish deepening the lines of her face.

  "Oh, God, my camera. It's still in the ship." She started to turn back towards the ship but Oliver grabbed her arm.

  "No time,” he repeated her own words as he dragged her towards the helicopters. They reached the copter and climbed in, gazing out the window to study the alien object. It had taken on a strange glow, resembling hot flowing larva.

  "We've got to get away from it." Pat voice was little more than a whimper.

  She needn't have worried. James had already started the rotors.

  As the two copters lifted from the ground almost simultaneously, the second copter drifted towards them then, with a sudden jerk, veered in the opposite direction towards the brightly glowing sphere. The pilot fought for control while at the same time climbing for altitude. Meanwhile, James struggled to keep his own copter from crashing into the trees on either side. The cross winds of the mountain made it difficult for both pilots to judge which direction to turn their sticks.

  James finally managed to get enough altitude to get above the shearing wind. The second helicopter was not so fortunate. The wind caught the copter under its belly pushing it down the chasm towards the alien vessel.

  "Pull back -- pull back, Jerry!" James yelled. Oliver reached over and grabbed Eddie's shoulder.

  "Steady there, James. Jerry knows what he's doing." It suddenly dawned on him why James was so concerned. The two pilots had come to work at B.I.U.F.O. at the same time, having flown together in Iraq. James was watching one of his best friends fight for his life.

  After a struggle which seemed to take hours but actually lasted only a few seconds, Jerry finally mastered the controls and the helicopter stabilized about twenty yards above the glowing sphere. He had just started his upward descent when the alien ship reached critical mass. The resulting fireball enveloped the helicopter like the flames of a campfire consumes the unsuspecting moth.

  Oliver watched his pilot closely as James pressed his face hard against the window, staring for several moments at the spectacle below. Finally, James leaned back in his seat and through tear stained eyes, turned and looked at Oliver and Pat.

  "He was a better pilot than me,” he said simply. "He didn't deserve to die."

  The alien finally stopped his flight up the mountain, leaning heavily against a tree to rest and watch the scene below. As he relaxed his body, it returned to the hunter-survivor form so it could continue to heal itself. He turned in time to see the ship that had carried him across light years of space explode in a glorious fireball. He was surprised and delighted when the explosion engulfed one of the biped’s machines, but he knew it was only the first of several encounters that would no doubt result in bipeds dying. At the same time, he had a new respect for this species. They only looked fragile. They might actually prove to be a worthy adversary, he thought, as he resumed his trek up the mountain and back to the cave that would now have to serve as his primary home, at least for a while longer.

  Cover Up

  Friday April 1

  Pat gazed out the office window to the postcard view of the Washington Monument. The Cherry blossoms were at their peak and hundreds of tourists were busily strolling the gardens around the monument, taking thousands of pictures. The blossoms are early, Pat thought. Just like the winter thaw down in North Carolina. A month ago, the thaw had looked to be a blessing from heaven but now, with what had happened since then, it appeared more of a curse from hell.

  Three men sat across the table behind Pat listening to the tape of her story that had been made less than 24 hours after the disaster on the mountain. Oliver sat at one end of the table, separate from the council.

  Separate from me as well, Pat noted. Despite telling herself differently, she was nervous about the meeting. Government bureaucracy can be a strange and dangerous animal, her father had always told her and in the past couple of weeks she'd witnessed it for herself.

  She had begun to suspect something was up the day after the explosion of the UFO. Oliver and she had been flown to Washington D.C. for their debriefing where they'd been held in tight security; "protected" from the press, they'd been told. So it had been completely by accident when she stumbled upon a copy of the morning paper. It had been left by someone in the room where Oliver and she were waiting prior to the debriefing. On the front page was the headline:

  MILITARY AIRCRAFT CRASHES IN

  NORTH CAROLINA MOUNTAINS

  As she read on, she realized the story was a cover-up for what had really happened near Waynesboro. Her fears began to mount when she showed the paper to the official conducting the debriefing. He was obviously embarrassed and upset that the paper had so carelessly been left in the room.

  In the last month, she'd been interviewed only by government officials, given no access to legal council, although until recently she hadn't thought she'd need it, and kept completely isolated from the outside world. She'd only been allowed to send her parents a brief, censored telegram informing them she was fine and that she had been assigned to a very important mission which would have her out of touch for a while. Looking back, it had been the telegram that had warned her how much trouble she was in.

  As the tape came to the end, one of the men across the table shut off the recorder. Pat took another moment to look out the window and wish she could be an innocent tourist enjoying the nation's capital and the cherry blossoms, and then she turned and returned to her seat. The three men stared at her for several seconds as though they each were waiting for the other to begin. Finally the man who had turned off the tape, cleared his throat, smiled blandly and said, "Ms. Vogt, I'm William Hartford, and this …” nodding to his left, " ... is Mr. Stephen McAllister, and this ...” nodding to his right, "... is Dr. Henry O’Donnell. Of course, you know Mr. Sykes," he said as he nodded toward Oliver.

  The formality of the names made Pat more nervous. What is this, a trial or what? She decided to find out. Resting her arms on the table she leaned across it and smiled demurely at the three men.

  "Well, Bill, Steve and Henry, is this a trial or what?"

  The three men looked at each other as though uncertain how to answer the question. Finally, Bill said, "No, Ms. Vogt, this is not a trial. We simply want to ask you a few more questions."

  "That's good, Bill,” Pat replied, continuing to ignore his attempts at formality. "Because if it were a trial, I would have to insist on having my attorney here." She turned and winked at Oliver and was surprised when he didn't so much as return a smile. The two of them had always been on good terms. What was going on here?

  "Ms. Vogt, as Mr. Hartford said, we only want to ask you a few questions." Dr. O’Donnell now took the lead. "You must understand. What happened on that mountain is of major importance to national security. We just want to be clear exactly what did happen."


  "I've told you what happened. It's all on the tape we just listened to. What more do you want to know? By the way, who are you guys? Really. I don't mean your names. I want to know who you are with. And what is this meeting? If it's not a trial, what exactly is it?"

  Hartford looked first to O’Donnell then to McAllister before answering. "I'm with the Defense Department, Ms. Vogt. Dr. O’Donnell is with NASA and Mr. McAllister is with the CIA. This meeting is, well, a meeting to determine your future with B.I.U.F.O. and to determine what if any actions are to be taken following the incident on the mountain."

  "What? You three men are supposed to determine 'my future with B.I.U.F.O.' but you aren't even with B.I.U.F.O.. Doesn't that seem a little strange?" Pat turned towards Oliver. "Oliver, what exactly is going on here? I feel like I'm under attack. I didn't do anything wrong up there. Oliver, tell them I didn't do anything wrong." Pat pleaded to her former boss. Oliver did not answer but simply looked down at the note pad in front of him.

  Finally, without looking up he said, “Just tell them what they want to know, Pat. They're conducting this investigation at the request of the White House. If you don't cooperate, it'll only make things worse for you."

  Pat groaned softly under her breath. The White House. Oh shit, I've had it now. They think I blew the damn UFO up. They don't believe a word I said. She felt herself tearing up from frustration. The stress of the last month that had been all bottled inside her threatened to escape all at once. No! She'd not cry in front of these bastards. She'd never give them the satisfaction. She straightened her back and glared at the three men across the table.

  "I refuse to say anything else until I have legal council. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me...”

  "Ms. Vogt, that won't be necessary." McAllister spoke up for the first time. "You have made your position perfectly clear." He glanced to O’Donnell and Hartford. "Now, we'll make ours clear as well."

  “You acted out of poor judgment on your last mission. What's more you disobeyed a direct command from your superior, Mr. Sykes. You were a young rookie at B.I.U.F.O., on your first assignment. You acted rashly and without forethought. In so doing, you greatly jeopardized the mission and placed the rest of your team in grave danger. Two men lost their lives on your account.

  "We will never know exactly what happened inside the structure that was dug into the mountain nor will we ever know what the structure really was. You saw to that. You claim there was an alien being inside and that it destroyed its own ship. But no one else saw anything remotely like what you described. The only thing reported leaving the ship was you and a deer." McAllister paused for a moment and leafed through a folder of papers in front of him. When he looked up, his jaw was firmly set and his eyes stared intensely into Pat's eyes.

  "We're sweeping this one under the rug, Ms. Vogt, and you will cooperate. If you don't, you will be arrested as a spy and charged with espionage. We can make a case, a very strong case, that you were operating for a foreign interest and your purpose was to find and destroy a top secret military craft which had gone down on U.S. soil.

  "The story we expect you would prefer to support is this. You have been under a lot of pressure lately. It took everything you had to get accepted into B.I.U.F.O. You then lost two team members on your first mission through a bad call on your part. It was more than you could handle. You've accepted B.I.U.F.O.'s offer to undergo extensive psychotherapy as well as accepting their suspension. Six months from now you will voluntarily resign from the bureau. You will never mention anything about the Waynesboro assignment. If anyone asks, you will simply say it was a difficult time of your life and you'd rather not discuss it. Is that understood?"

  Pat sat in her seat, her back still straight, icy fingers running down her spine. They'd set her up to take the fall. Whatever it was that had been on the mountain, B.I.U.F.O. was not prepared to share it with the rest of the world. But what about the alien? Had it died in the explosion? What if it hadn't? It could still be out there somewhere.

  "Ms. Vogt." Hartford's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Do you understand what Mr. McAllister said?"

  Pat nodded slowly. "I understand."

  She glanced over to Oliver but he would not meet her gaze. He knows something that he isn't saying. He saw something and he's afraid to say what. Somehow, she had to find out. What happened on the mountain might be swept under the rug for the rest of the world, but she'd never forget it. She had walked through an alien spaceship, had almost been killed by its occupant. More importantly, it might still be alive. She'd cooperate but for only one reason. If the alien was still alive, it would be up to her to find it. Something she could not do if she was behind bars.

  A vivid picture of the alien standing over her flashed in her mind. It had meant to kill her but had misjudged her. She'd gotten a good look at it and despite being dazed by the blows from those cylinders; she would be able to recognize it again. How could such an ugly beast hope to hide? Even if it was mistaken for a panther which it only vaguely resembled, how many reports of panther attacks did you hear about in this part of the world? It would turn up and when it did, she would be around to be sure it received the proper welcome it deserved.

  She tossed her head back in a carefree manner. "I understand perfectly, gentlemen, and you can count on me to cooperate fully. You've made it very clear. Is there anything else you need of me?"

  "No, I think that will be all, Ms. Vogt." Hartford said as he glanced at his two companions for a last time. "We appreciate your cooperation."

  Pat stood up to leave. As she turned towards the door, her eyes fell once more on Oliver who continued to study the pad of paper in front of him. You know something, Oliver dear, and I'm going to find out what role you played in this. You owe me that much.

  "Are you coming, Oliver?" She asked innocently. Oliver shook his head and without looking up said, "No, I have a couple of things to go over with Bill, uh, Mr. Hartford. I'll see you in the next day or so." You bet your sweet ass you will, Pat thought as she left the room. You bet your sweet ass.

  The coffee house was in the basement level of a run down apartment house. Although Pat had walked by it dozens of times before it had never been the kind of place she'd consider frequenting --until now. Now it was the perfect place, reasonably close to her home but more importantly, it was dark and secluded. Oliver had made a good choice.

  She hesitated at the top of the stairs. She wanted to look around her, to be sure no one had followed her but it would only make her look that much more suspicious. With all her will power she resisted the temptation. She'd been careful and her father had taught her well how to keep from being followed. She was certain the van that had been parked outside her apartment was still there. She'd left her television running and a tape recording of extraneous sounds she had made a couple days ago. She had at least an hour before anyone listening in on the bug would suspect the apartment was empty.

  As nonchalantly as possible she strolled down the short flight of stairs as though she was going to her favorite neighborhood coffee house. Inside, she paused in the foyer, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness. The only word she could think of to describe Alex's Coffee House was dingy. No, two words —dark and dingy. And perfect for the meeting with Oliver. She walked through the beaded curtain and into the main room. A middle-age lady looked up from her Reader's Digest and smiled through heavily made-up lips.

  Before Pat had a chance to describe Oliver to the lady, she pointed over to the far corner booth. Oliver sat there with a cup of coffee in front of him and a thick cloud of smoke partially obscuring his face. He's taken up smoking again, Pat observed as she walked over to the table. After six months of proudly accusing everyone else for not having the will power to stop, he'd picked it up again. I'm not the only one under a lot of pressure these days.

  "Thanks for agreeing to meet with me,” Pat said as she slipped into the booth across from Oliver. "No problem,” Oliver replied simply. "I can't stay long. My
secretary is covering for me, but ..." He didn't bother to finish the sentence.

  "I understand. Let me get right to the questions then. What did you see on that mountain?"

  Oliver looked down at his coffee and back to Pat. "Nothing, really. It was all in the report. We didn't have much time. I saw a large metallic object dug into the mountainside. It was difficult to determine its shape but I'd guess it was spherical or oblong. When we first approached the site, it was resting quietly but by the time we landed, it had begun to glow." The words sounded well rehearsed as though memorized straight from the report.

  The hostess came over to the table to take Pat's order. Pat looked at the thick brew in Oliver's cup and decided to pass on Alex's special coffee. The hostess nodded and left without saying a word.

  "What else? Was there anything else? Think hard. I know you saw something you're afraid to say. Damn it! Oliver, I'm taking the rap on this one. Okay, I'm willing, but you've got to help me. I've got to know what you saw."

  Oliver hesitated. He studied his cup, twirling the dark liquid as though he might find the answer in the bottom of the cup. After almost a minute, he shook his head and without looking up, said, "It's all in the report. I don't know what you're looking for from me, but I can't help you." He picked up his coffee cup and took a sip, then sat back in the booth as though he was finished with the interview. Then he suddenly sat forward again.

  "I like you, Pat. I really do. I liked you the moment you walked into my office for our first interview. So, I'm going to tell you something. It probably won't make any difference, but you need to hear it from someone.

  "You're not a team player. Oh, you're a great individual player. You've got a lot going for you, but you're not a team player. And in this world, if you're not willing to go with what's good for the team, well...you get cut."