Lost Time (The Bridge Sequence Book Two)

by Nathan Hystad

  “I’ve been doing that since day one. Haven’t you noticed?”

  I chuckled. There was no hiding the fact that Tripp didn’t trust them. “It’s been pretty obvious.”

  Tripp’s expression remained stoic. “Let me guess. You heard them talking in their strange language?”

  I was astonished. “What? You knew about that?”

  “Sure. I’ve heard them muttering stuff under their breath for the last week. Clay slips up more than Dirk.”

  “What do you think they’re speaking?” I asked, curious what Tripp Davis really thought.

  “Difficult to tell. They were gone a while. Eight years is enough to drive anyone mad. They may have been taught the vernacular, or it could be made up. Or…”

  “It sounds like the Believers’ language,” I whispered.

  “Again, I don’t have anything to base that on. But I will be sure to watch them closely.” Tripp smiled despite the circumstances. “And I’ll only kill them if I have to.” That was about as good a promise as I’d get from him.

  “Thanks.”

  “Time to board,” he said. “Don’t forget to meet my guy tonight for the gear.”

  He’d arranged for us to contact an old acquaintance of his in Seattle. He didn’t want us going into the fray without weapons, and the thought of using another one made my stomach wound tense up. “We’ll do it.”

  An hour later, Veronica and I sat in business class, with Marcus a couple of seats down and across the aisle. The seat next to him was empty, and he had his oversized headphones on as he stared out the window.

  “I hope we find it there,” she said as the plane began rolling from the terminal.

  “So do I.”

  The plane took off after a brief safety demonstration from a bored-looking flight attendant. The sun began to peek from beyond the horizon.

  “I think you were correct,” I told her.

  “About what? I’m right a lot. You’ll have to be more specific.” Veronica smirked at me, and I wanted to lean in and kiss her. She must have picked up on my changed mood, because she lost her smile. “What is it?”

  “Your father.” I was in the aisle seat, and I turned to face her. “You said it might not be him.”

  “It was a long day, and he was… not what I was expecting,” she said.

  “Exactly.” I spoke of my conversation with Tripp and what I’d heard, remembering the words Dirk had said to me when I’d moved him to bed the other night after the bar.

  “This isn’t good. They might be imposters.” Veronica pushed the hair behind her ear.

  “There’s something else I need to discuss.” The plane leveled out, and the seatbelt sign turned off.

  “What else could possibly matter?”

  “Champagne?” the flight attendant asked.

  It was seven in the morning, and I shook my head. “Coffee?”

  “Make it two.” Veronica’s voice was shaky.

  The woman carried on, and before I could say anything to Veronica, I heard Marcus calling my name.

  “Check the TV app. News.” It sounded important.

  Veronica grabbed the tablet and turned it on, pulling out disposable headphones. She passed an ear bud to me, and I shoved it in as the Vice President took the podium in the White House press conference room. I remembered Special Agent Young’s confirmation that this man was a Believer.

  “Good morning, America. You’ve been waiting for the address from President Carl Duggan, but he’s been under the weather for the last few days. I assure you he’s being treated, and we can expect to see him running laps again anytime now. He asked me to discuss the topic on everyone’s mind. Almost two months ago, we discovered an object near Pluto. At first, we thought it was an asteroid, and the trajectory and speed were common. But that has changed more than once since the discovery.” The Vice President was a short, thick man, balding, with a gray swatch of hair circling his head and a calming demeanor. He was articulate, but I tensed listening to his speech.

  Veronica glanced over, her eyebrows lifted.

  “There are four Objects, as the media has dubbed them, and as of this moment, the scientific community has established they’re heading for Earth. There is no evidence they will stop here, or that these Objects are actually alien vessels. Many in the administration have assured us this could be an anomaly. The brightest minds have said, and I quote, ‘The universe’s remarkable mysteries seem so complicated and outrageous from our perspective, but when you seek to understand them, they are commonplace, no longer to be feared.’

  “Think about gravity, only calculated and normalized in the 15th century, or Einstein’s theory of relativity, opening up so many doors that had previously been closed. This could be another of those instances, where something is happening that is not dangerous or worrisome, but a case to be examined and revered. Maybe this will lead to a breakthrough in demystifying the universe, and even ourselves.”

  Spoken like a man with an agenda.

  “We’ve reached out to other countries, and though we cannot control what the Russians and Chinese do, rest assured the United States will not allow them to jeopardize this monumental occasion with violence. We will stop them from harming the Objects until we know what we’re dealing with.”

  Veronica gave me a look, rolling her eyes at the VP’s words.

  “The White House asks that you remain calm. Stay peaceful. Do not let fear dictate your actions, and perhaps in two months, we’ll be pleasantly surprised or bask in our new discovery. Let this be a joyous occasion, not one that tears our planet apart.” He started to step from the podium, and a dozen voices called out. The press secretary pointed at a reporter in the crowd, and we heard the question loud and clear.

  “Mr. Vice President, are you suggesting these may be extra-terrestrials?” the woman asked.

  “I’m not here to speculate. The US government will be prepared to deal with whatever circumstances we face.” Vice President Alan Black set his hands on the podium again.

  “Associated News. Can you comment on the mounting protests in LA?”

  “As I said, this is not a time for panic, people. Stay home. Stay working. Keep our wonderful economy going. We can’t assume that these Objects are harmful. We have no reason to be fearful.”

  “Digital Post. Sir, are the rumors true that China has blocked all communication with the White House? And that Russia is mobilizing a force like we haven’t seen in decades?”

  This seemed to agitate the Vice President, and I knew he wasn’t used to the intensity of these conferences. This was the President’s arena, but if what Young had told me was accurate, I suspected the President’s illness wasn’t a coincidence.

  “I don’t know where you heard that, but it’s not true.”

  Veronica nudged me with an elbow. “That’s totally true. It’s all over his face.”

  More people tried asking questions, but the Vice President raised his hand, stepping away from the conference. The Press Secretary stood there, thanking them for attending, and the feed ended.

  I plucked the ear bud out and glanced at Marcus. He shook his head at me.

  “What were you going to tell me?” Veronica asked.

  “Alan Black is with them,” I whispered.

  Our coffees came at the most inopportune time, and we lowered the seat trays over our laps. I patiently waited for the woman to leave us alone, and Veronica finally asked the question she’d been clinging to. “How do you know?”

  I slipped the card from my wallet and unfolded it, passing it to her. “I was visited by an ally in Scranton. He’s on a mission to destroy the Believers, and assumed I had some information on them. He’s assured me this is off the books, and—”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “Everything.”

  “Oh my God, Rex. This could be bad,” she said.

  “How can it get any worse?”

  “Let’s see where we’re at.” She set the cup down and started listing things
off while moving her fingers out to count. “Our parents might be aliens. We failed to find the help we needed across the Bridge. We’re about to dive into the enemy’s lair with nothing but a vague idea of what we’re searching for. And the President of the United States is probably stashed in a container heading offshore as we speak. Not to mention the fact the FBI knows everything we’ve done and who we are.”

  “You forgot to mention my gunshot wound,” I joked. It didn’t have the desired effect.

  “It’s not funny, Rex.” She grabbed my hand. “I entered this mission thinking there was a chance we’d learn something about my dad’s disappearance. Never in a million years did I expect to find him. And now this? Objects drawing closer. How do you fight a cult that has the Vice President in their ranks?”

  “I guess we do so covertly,” I suggested.

  “When I actually slow down and consider what we’re doing, it feels impossible.”

  I sipped the bitter coffee, making a face. “Do you think he’s the Sovereign?”

  “Probably. If the previous Sovereign was French, and the new leader ordered the collection of relics to the States, that increases the odds that it’s Alan. I doubt the President is returning soon.” Veronica played with her coffee cup, stirring the cream over and over.

  “Either way, we have a contact with the FBI, and that might help us.”

  “Or drown us,” she said.

  I was unsure how to respond.

  9

  The lights glowed a dim orange as we exited off the bridge, heading for the warehouse district. The harbor here was busy during the day, and we’d chosen to come hours after most of the businesses closed. The air was crisp along the ocean in Seattle, the kind of humid bite you only felt at port cities.

  We passed a warehouse with ten or so semi-trailers parked in the giant lot, and I glanced at a sun-faded beer advertisement billboard. On our right was a yard full of shipping containers; rusted red boxes stood like stacked sarcophagi in the night.

  Tripp’s contact was meeting us down the block, and I pulled over at a maintenance shop, killing the lights.

  “Why are we stopping?” Veronica asked. Marcus was scoping out the Believers’ address from across the street at a coffee shop in the downtown core instead of joining us. I felt better not bringing him to this remote clandestine meeting with an underground arms dealer.

  “I want to go on foot. You stay here, drive up in ten minutes,” I told her.

  “I’d rather come with you.”

  I cut the engine, leaving the keys in the ignition. “Be there in ten.”

  The air was brisk as I left the car, and a few flakes began dropping from the dark sky. Shoving my hands into my jacket pockets, I started walking away from Veronica, and heard the car door open as she slid into the driver’s side.

  Tripp had given me an envelope full of cash, and it sat in my breast pocket, directly beside the Token I wouldn’t allow from my sight. They both rested above the tattoo on my chest. I thought about the words: Promissa terra. Turned out Rimia wasn’t much of a promised land after all.

  The road was full of potholes, in desperate need of some taxpayers’ money, and I had to pay attention to the concrete to keep from stumbling in the dark alley. The destination was ahead, and the streetlight was conveniently off, the glass lens shattered and spread on the ground underneath.

  Tripp swore the man was trustworthy, but I’d seen enough of Tripp to know he likely associated with some unsavory characters. A black pickup truck sat facing away from a tire shop. There were hundreds of the rubber rings in piles around the building, and I saw the glowing cigarette before I smelled it, with the wind dispersing it around me.

  The guy leaned on the truck, one foot on the hubcap, and flicked the butt as I approached. He was stocky, wearing a leather coat and jeans, with slicked hair and a shaggy beard.

  “You walk here?” he asked.

  “Something like that.”

  He edged closer. “Whatever. Have the cash?”

  “Stay there,” I said. “Let’s see the goods.”

  “Tripp said you’d be antsy.” He pointed at his stomach. “Said you were shot.”

  “I’d prefer not to experience that again,” I told him.

  “Then you’re probably not going to want to buy these.” He opened the truck door and retrieved a dark brown satchel, unzipping it after setting it on the ground. “P226s, couple ET-MP grenades. Extra magazines.”

  I frowned as he held a grenade, wondering what the hell I was expected to do with those. “Sure. Looks good.” I was pulling the cash out when the lights flashed over the alley. Blue and red strobes glinted off his windshield, and the guy freaked.

  “What did you do? I thought I could trust that bastard Davis.” He grabbed for the bag, and I knew I only had one chance at this. I lunged, taking the satchel first. More grenades dropped to the ground, and he shouted at me as I darted away.

  The police cars turned their sirens on, and I heard the squeal of the truck’s tires as it lurched from the parking lot. I waited in the shadows, holding the bag of illegal weapons, watching five cop cars race after my contact.

  My heart beat like a drum as I rounded the tire shop, judging that the guy would rat me out the instant he was caught. He’d use me as leverage if they arrested him with a stash of illegals in the truck.

  The yard was fenced, and I chucked the bag over the chain link, climbing the barricade and hopping to the other side. My stomach ached at the movement, but it would be fine. The wound had been much better these last few days, and plenty of time had passed. I met a cross-section of three railroad tracks and followed them east, moving away from the harbor. I hung to the right side, trying to stay out of plain sight. The sound of the sirens grew more distant, and I imagined my contact was taking them on a wild goose chase.

  Veronica would be beside herself, and I hoped she’d had sense to leave the alley. The cops might have stopped her if they’d noticed a woman parked a block from the bust they were trying to make. I wanted to send her a text, but also wanted as much distance as I could get before I halted.

  More snow fell, a layer of it sticking and making the ground slippery. I jogged as cautiously as I could, heading away from the warehouses behind me. Downtown was a few miles north, up the freeway, but I couldn’t possibly stay on foot, not in the cold night.

  I turned off the tracks at the next intersection, moving north, and saw tents in the empty lot. Dozens of homeless people gathered around flaming barrels. A woman appeared out of nowhere, cursing the weather, and almost plowed into me with her shopping cart.

  “What do we have here?” a man asked, slapping his gloved palms loudly. He was tall, a black hat clinging tightly to his head.

  I kept walking, trying to pick up speed.

  “Boy, I’m talking to you!” he shouted, and I glanced back to see a police cruiser slowly driving across the tracks in our direction.

  I made my decision. I stopped and turned to face the man chasing me. “Buddy, I’m your best friend tonight. I’ll give you a hundred bucks for your hat and a spot near the barrel.”

  He peeked at the creeping cop car, and then at me. “Sure, son.” He pulled the hat off. “Lemme see the cash first.” He peeked at the bag slung across my shoulder, and I realized I hadn’t zipped it up yet.

  I slipped a bill from the envelope in my jacket and passed it over. He tossed the beanie and dragged me toward the flames, putting me on the far side. I dropped the bag at my feet, hiding it from the viewpoint of the road, and shoved the knit cap over my hair.

  “Nice fire. Thanks for sharing with me,” I told the group of four.

  “Who’s this, Gerry?” a woman asked.

  “My best buddy,” the hatless man said, cackling a laugh between missing teeth.

  The cop’s siren sounded once, and the car pulled over. I heard the window roll down, but didn’t look up, pretending not to notice them. “Everything good?” a voice asked.

  “Sure, Paulie,” s
omeone said.

  “You guys seen a black truck pass by?”

  “Nope. No one here but us chickens,” hatless said, receiving a couple of clucks from the others.

  “Okay.” The window rolled up, and the car drove off. When it was gone, I finally breathed a sigh of relief and pulled out my cell phone.

  Rex – Where are you?

  I sent the text to Veronica, but she didn’t respond. Maybe she was driving.

  “Say, boy. What’s that big envelope in your jacket? That wouldn’t be something the cops would be interested in, would it?” the tall man asked. He took a step toward me, and I stood my ground.

  “They probably want my guns.” I said it with an air of indifference.

  I just wanted to get out of there and reach the hotel. I tugged the dirty hat off, pulled out the stack of cash, and handed them both over. “Spread the wealth,” I told him, and he gawked at the envelope with wide eyes.

  Before anyone commented, I slung my bag over my shoulder and left. I heard the laughing and cheering when I was half a block away, glad that he’d shared the windfall. On such a crappy night, it was nice to see someone was enjoying themselves.

  I marched for another ten minutes, finally finding a normal surface street, and luckily waved a taxi down soon after. The roads were quiet, and I’d almost used my phone app for a ride share. The fewer digital imprints I left, the better, so I happily paid the guy cash to bring me downtown.

  As soon as I walked into the room, it was obvious there was a problem. Marcus was pacing the small space, and he ran over the moment he saw me. “Veronica’s in jail.”

  ____________

  Morning came, and we met her at the precinct. She was disheveled and angry as she strode across the street.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, and she looked ready to slap me.

  “Okay? You abandoned me there. The cops brought me in. I told them I was a tourist and was lost. That I’d pulled over to find directions. They finally grew tired of questioning me about this gun dealer and let me off.”

  “So it wasn’t us they were after? It was the dealer?” I asked.