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

by Orrin Jason Bradford

  "Well, if you've come for some hunting tips, I'm afraid you're barking up the wrong tree,” Allan replied with a laugh.

  Bo smiled but it appeared forced. "No, not looking for any tips, but I am looking for some information, Doc. You remember those ugly ol' bugs we pulled out of that deer a few weeks back? I was just wondering if you've heard anything from the state lab."

  Allan hoped his face didn't show the alarm he felt by the mention of the larvae. He'd been counting on Bo's wispy memory to not remember anything about the larvae. It looked like he'd been hoping for too much.

  "No Bo, as a matter of fact, I haven't but I'm not surprised. The state lab has been known to take months on such matters, especially if it's anything out of the ordinary. Why do you ask?" He tried to ask the question nonchalantly.

  "Well, I was jawing with an old hunting buddy of mine the other day. You might know him. Convoy MacMillan?"

  "No, I can't say I've had the pleasure."

  "Well, no matter. Convoy and I were sitting around sipping on the juice, swapping hunting stories. I eventually got to telling him about those weird bugs we found in that buck. Much to my surprise, Convoy said he'd shot a buck a while back with them inside it as well. He described them to a tee. I was just wondering if we got some epee-demic going around or something."

  As he spoke Bo continued to pull and twist his hat. Allan couldn't remember ever seeing him so nervous and worried. Seeing Bo act this way was making him nervous as well.

  "Well, I don't know, Bo, but I kind of doubt it. It's probably just one of those strange coincidences that happen from time to time. But if you like, I'll give the state lab a call and see if I can rush things along.”

  Bo's hands relaxed a little and he smiled. "Yeah. I'd really appreciate it. I have to admit, I hate to think there might be something jeopardizing our wildlife. I know I'm a hunter and all, but like most hunters, I really love the outdoors. I wouldn't want to see anything happen."

  "Well, I'll see what I can find out. In the meantime, try not to worry." Allan rose from behind the desk to show Bo out. "You might not want to say too much about this until we have some facts. You know how people can make stuff up out of nothing."

  Bo laughed. "You can say that again. I have to confess, I mentioned our hunting trip to my niece the other day. Hell, she’s always drilling me with questions. Says she’s practicing being a reporter. But not to worry. Mimi is just a kid who’s curious about everything and with a big imagination. You should hear about some of the wild stories she tells about the weird things supposedly going on over in Foster Flats. She writes it all down in her little black notebooks, but that’s as far as it goes.”

  I sure hope he’s right about that, Allan thought growing more nervous by the minute.

  “She probably gets that imagination from me,” Bo continued. “Hell, Convoy and I were supposed to get together a couple of days ago. When he didn't show I started making up all sorts of shit. But the truth of the matter is, Convoy isn't the most reliable friend I have. He's probably locked up in the next county for too much carousing."

  Suddenly, Allan was worried again. "Did Convoy happen to mention where he shot the deer he was telling you about?" Bo stopped at the door. "Well, yeah he did. You promise not to say anything to anyone?"

  "Sure. I'm not out to get him in trouble,” Allan replied.

  "Convoy is a free-spirited sort. Not dangerous or anything. He just doesn't like to be confined by rules, if you know what I mean. He told me he snuck into the old game preserve a few weeks ago with his crossbow. Said he couldn't believe the number of deer he saw. It was like shooting fish in a barrow. Even said he might try it again. I tried to convince him to stay away, but he's not always the easiest person to convince."

  Homlin's place. The deer Convoy had shot was on Homlin's preserve. Oh boy, Pat is not going to like this, Allan thought. In some strange way it was beginning to make sense. It was like Pat has suspected. Homlin was the key. The question was, the key to what?

  Homlin stared out the window, enjoying the view of the Washington Monument, as the five-doctor panel of the Food and Drug Administration filed in behind him. It was his third meeting with the panel in almost as many weeks. So far, everything had progressed as planned. The five doctors had not yet granted him permission to disseminate FreeForm to the other research facilities across the country, but neither had they thrown him out.

  It took a vote of approval from four out of the five doctors to proceed. So far three of them had said yes. It took only one more to see it Homlin's way for his plan to proceed. Once that occurred, he'd be unstoppable. The FreeForm would be all across the country within a week of the vote.

  Homlin chuckled to himself. Life was easy when one was willing to work inside the system. Anything could be accomplished when you went with the flow. Even if occasionally you had to manipulate the system just a little to get the flow to move in your direction.

  A polite cough from one of the panel members notified Homlin they were ready to begin. He continued standing with his back to them for just a few seconds longer than was polite. Mustn't give up control. It was a cardinal rule when dealing with bureaucrats. Finally, with one last appreciative gaze out the window, Homlin turned and took his seat across the mahogany table.

  "So good to see each of you again." Homlin started right in as though it had been his idea to call the meeting instead of the other way around. "I trust all your research is checking out. Are we ready to move on to the next step?"

  "Not so fast,” answered Dr. Ralph Connolly, one of the two doctors still opposing Homlin's proposal. Interesting, Homlin noted, Connolly and Lenair, the two doctors still opposing his request were seated together at his left. Wrightwall, Harrison, and McNeilly were in front and to his right. It seems the battle lines were clearly drawn.

  "I would like, for the record, for you to quickly review your proposal, so we can be absolutely certain we understand what you are asking us to make a motion on."

  "Certainly, Dr. Connolly. It's very simple, really. As you know my company, Biogentrix, has successfully manufactured a genetic material which has incredible adaptive properties. One could call it the modeling clay of life. We are a small lab with limited research funds. I realize that scientific progress could be made much more rapidly if more researchers could work on the material."

  "And you've named the material, FreeForm. Is that right?" Connolly asked, then added, "For the record, Dr. Homlin."

  "Oh, indeed, for the record. Yes, the product which I am speaking about has been registered under the trademark name of FreeForm."

  "And the products and discoveries which are likely to come out of the research of others, you are proposing that Biogentrix be credited with fifty percent of the proceeds. Is that correct?"

  "Yes, that is correct. We will supply the 'raw material' as it were. Each facility will apply their particular specialty and whatever new products come out, Biogentrix will be an equal partner,” Homlin replied.

  "And what are some of the products you suspect will come from such a collaboration?" Lenair asked, staring at the report over a pair of reading glasses propped on his nose.

  "The sky is the limit, gentlemen. FreeForm is truly amazing and highly adaptive. I suspect some of the early products will be agricultural in nature. Like blight resistant corn, and grass that grows to only three inches and never needs cutting, and cows that produce more milk, and beef cattle with lower cholesterol. Who knows after that?"

  "Exactly my point!" Lenair shouted, slapping the report down on the table. "Who knows what could come of this? If this FreeForm is one tenth, hell, one hundredth as adaptive a material as Dr. Homlin claims, how is it to be controlled? Sure, we'll start with the simple stuff first, but how long will researchers be satisfied with messing around with beef cattle. How long before someone decides to try to clone the perfect woman or man? Then what?"

  "Dr. Lenair, please.” Harrison spoke up from the other end of the table. "We'll get to the questions in
just a moment. We all realize you still have some concerns . . ."

  "Damn right I do! Not the least of which is the fact that you three don't seem to be the least troubled by Dr. Homlin's proposal. Why, it's preposterous to think of distributing such a substance as this FreeForm to over a thousand other research facilities across the country with such scant preliminary data as he's presented to us."

  "I understand your concern, Dr. Lenair,” Harrison continued in a soothing voice. "It's not that we don't appreciate there are some risks involved. It's just that we see the possible benefits to all of mankind far outweighs the unlikely complications."

  "Dr. Harrison," Dr. Connolly spoke up. "I believe what Dr. Lenair is pointing to is that the complications are not so unlikely. They are in fact very likely to arise and before we can approve of such a proposal we must have a firm set of guidelines which will address as many of these complicating questions as possible."

  "Hell, that could take years." McNeilly now entered the discussion. "In the meantime, hundreds of thousands will continue to starve, millions will continue to suffer needlessly while we continue to stand in the way of the greatest scientific breakthrough in history."

  "Better to stand in the way than to mindlessly open Pandora's box simply because it looks like it holds all the answers." Lenair's glasses threatened to fall off the tip of his nose.

  Homlin sat across the table, quietly enjoying the heated debate. For the record, he thought, Yes, for the record it's going very well. He stared at the two doctors who continued to oppose his plan. Which one would come over to his way of thinking? Lenair was the spunkier of the two. It might be interesting to have him on his side...a bit less predictable than if Connolly came over.

  As it turned out, today's meeting was important, after all. He had changed his mind. He liked Lenair's spunkiness, and there was the chance the nearsighted doctor might continue to cause trouble even when he was outvoted. It made more sense to have Lenair in his camp than outside raising a ruckus.

  Homlin leaned back in his chair and rested his hands behind his head. As far as he was concerned, the meeting was over. He'd made the only really important decision. All the rest was just for the record.

  "I'm being followed."

  "You're what? Are you sure?" Allan leaned across the table to Pat and grabbed her hand, as though fearful she might suddenly be taken away, the thought of a pleasant, uneventful lunch forgotten.

  "Yes, sweetie, I'm sure. Remember a large part of my business is following other people. After a while you learn to read the signs when someone is doing it to you. Besides, they aren't very good at it. I suspect you'd be able to tell, yourself. By the way, are you being followed?"

  "I don't know. I don't think so. Who would want to follow me around? It would get pretty boring. To the clinic, back home, to the clinic, back home, lunch with you. That's about it."

  "Well, they may not be following you. They may have decided that I'm the only one that needs watching. After all, I'm the one with the tendency to stir up trouble."

  "You mean Homlin's thugs?" Allan asked.

  "Well, I certainly don't mean Lucky's old owners," Pat said, patting Allan's hand.

  "I don't like this. This is getting out of control. What if they decide to do something besides just watch you?"

  Pat squeezed Allan's hand. "You're cute. You really are. I think you're beginning to care about me."

  "Don't be silly." Allan smiled. "I cared about you the minute you walked in my clinic. It's gone a lot farther than 'caring.'"

  "Well, try not to worry. I'm not so concerned that they'll try anything with me. I think they're mostly concerned that I not try anything. Which, by the way, I plan to do."

  "What do you mean? Pat, I think we're getting in over our heads. Maybe it's time to call in some help. I know the local police aren't the most crack shot in the world, but they're a start. Surely they'd be able to call in the SBI and probably the FBI.”

  "Think about it, Allan. What are we going to say? We want you to arrest Dr. Frederick Homlin, the owner and president of Biogentrix, on the grounds that he's connected with an alien spaceship that landed in this area ten years ago. And by the way, he has something to do with turning a larva that was pulled out of a stray dog into an exact replica of this man's son. They lock people up with stories like that. Remember, I've already had dealings with the federal government.

  "No, without some proof, solid proof, we can't tell anyone and expect anything but a lot of strange looks. That's why I've got to get into Biogentrix."

  "You've got to be kidding. Are you crazy? What do you expect the person tailing you to do? Simply report to his boss that you've broken into their secret facility? No way. It's far too dangerous." Allan's eyes darted around the restaurant like a married lover on a secret rendezvous.

  "I haven't figured it out yet,” Pat confessed. "Somehow I've got to lose my tail for a day or so. Maybe you could put on a wig and let them follow you for a while," she teased Allan.

  "If I thought it would work, I'd be happy to do it. But I'd probably just get arrested for walking around in drag."

  They both laughed, easing the tension a little. They sat quietly, deep in their own thoughts. Finally, Allan snapped his fingers, startling Pat.

  "That's it,” he said with a broad smile.

  "No, Allan. You were right the first time. They'd never fall for the masquerade. But I appreciate the offer."

  "Not me, silly. I'm not letting you out of my sight. I'm going with you to Biogentrix. We'll let Dawn wear the wig."

  Pat immediately started shaking her head. "No way. Nix. Uh-uh. I wouldn't consider it. Dawn's a sweetheart of a person, but I couldn't ask her to do something like this for me."

  "You won't have to. I will,” Allan replied. Then leaning forward he added, "Listen, Pat. You said it yourself. This is important stuff. If Homlin is connected with the alien in some way, our entire country's security is at stake."

  "I know what I said,” Pat replied testily. "We'll just have to find another way. And you're not coming with me either. I appreciate the offer, but I'm not dragging you or Dawn into this any further."

  The two lovers stared at each other, neither one willing to budge. Finally, Allan shook his head. "A couple nights ago you had me take a long hard look at myself. You helped me face something I had been avoiding. I'm now going to ask you to do the same."

  Pat started to turn away but Allan grabbed her arm. "Listen to me," he said sharply, then in a softer voice he added, "please."

  Pat turned back facing him.

  "You've got to start trusting people."

  "I do . . ." Pat tried to interrupt but Allan placed a finger on her lips.

  "No, you don't. Not really. This is a perfect example. You're trying to do it all yourself carrying the weight of the whole world on your shoulders. Well, you've managed to carry this alien thing around for the past ten years. And you've done a fine job of it, I'm sure. But now it's time to let go. Just like I had to let go of my illusions about TJ. You can't do this all by yourself. And even if you could, why bother? I'm here to help. I want to help. And Dawn will want to help as well. She doesn't have to know all the details. We'll tell her just enough so she can be you while we take a peek inside Biogentrix. Trust me on this one, Pat."

  Pat sat there for several minutes considering what Allan had said. She had heard other people accuse her of the same thing before. Even her father used to tell her that her strong suit of being so self-reliant was also her blind spot. It had been one of the few things he had said that she had never been able to take to heart.

  But now, it looked like she had to, somehow. Allan was right. There was too much at stake. She couldn't afford to blow it this time. Like she had the first time she'd been in these mountains. Oliver had said the same thing in his own way. She had interpreted his remarks as giving in to the establishment, but there were other ways to play on a team. Maybe the reason she was so driven to find the alien was because deep down inside she knew
it was her fault that he was out there in the first place. She had tried to do it all herself. Be the big hero but all she had been was dangerous. It had almost cost her her life and it had cost two men theirs.

  Pat felt the warm tears trickle down her cheeks. Allan offered her a handkerchief. Shaking her head, she reached for her purse to find her own then, realizing she was doing it again, accepted the one Allan offered.

  "It's not easy for a leopard to change her spots,” she said as she wiped the tears away.

  "I know. We'll take it one spot at a time,” Allan replied. "I'll talk to Dawn this afternoon."

  Pat nodded and smiled. With a little practice, she thought she could get used to having Allan around.

  Homlin sat in the far corner of the smoky tavern, his own cigar adding to the musty atmosphere. In front of him sat a half finished mug of beer, only the second one he'd ever had. He now remembered why. It tasted foul and the alcohol in it did not agree with his metabolism.

  After a few minutes, the door to the bar opened and a tall man in a gray trench coat entered. He stood in the doorway for a moment then strolled towards Homlin's table. He slid into the booth across from Homlin, not bothering to remove his coat.

  "So good to see you again, Dr. Harrison,” Homlin said as the man unbuttoned his coat and slid it off his shoulders. "Quite an interesting show today, wouldn't you say?"

  Biogentrix's Secret

  Saturday Evening, Dec. 4

  Allan glanced at his watch just as it beeped twelve midnight. So far so good, he thought. Earlier today, they had made the switch with Dawn smoothly. It had been simple. Pat had strolled into the clinic a few minutes after closing. A few minutes later, Dawn, dressed in Pat's clothes and wearing a black wig, had walked back out, gotten in Pat's car, and driven out of the parking lot. And sure enough, Allan had seen the gray sedan pull out behind Dawn and follow her down the road, both on their way to Charlotte. Watching the sedan tagging behind her had given Allan cold chills; he was careful to hide his concern from Pat. They had decided to have Dawn drive to Charlotte, as though Pat were checking on business matters. It was plausible and would at the same time give them flexibility as to how long to continue the scam.