by James Cherry
The doctor nodded.
The sergeant said, “I would be glad to call him if you have his number.”
The doctor said, “Don’t you have a directory? And as an enlisted soldier, shouldn’t you know every important officer that works here?”
The sergeant smiled and explained, “Sir, there are over 25,000 employees that work here, and quite a few of them are generals.”
“I have to speak to the general, this is a very important matter of national security,” the doctor lied.
The sergeant said, “Tell you what I can do, I will call my supervisor and see if he can help.” He held out is hand and asked, “May I see some identification?”
The doctor passed his driver’s license to the sergeant and waited as the man moved back into the guardhouse to confer with someone on the phone.
After a few moments the soldier returned with a clipboard and said, "Sir, General Crowell is expecting you. Please sign here and go through the gate. General Crowell will have someone waiting on you." He handed the doctor a visitor badge and continued, “Please clip this visitors badge on your breast pocket.”
Doctor Burch signed the paper on the clipboard and handed it back to the soldier. Moving through the gate, he approached the main entrance and looked intently for the general’s man.
A young officer appeared out of nowhere and waved impatiently as he approached with a frown. He appeared to be preoccupied with other matters and was clearly not happy to have been assigned to this particular duty.
The officer said, "Welcome sir, I am Captain Wilson and I will escort you to General Crowell's office.” He quickly turned and headed towards the massive building.
They entered the building and were checked by another soldier just inside the doors. The soldier scanned their badges with a hand-held machine and asked the doctor to produce another form of ID.
Doctor Burch obliged and showed his driver’s license. The soldier examined the license with a trained eye, handed it back to the doctor, and motioned him through.
The doctor and the captain continued down a long hall, finally stopping in front of an elevator. The captain impatiently jabbed the elevator button several times, as if the multiple pushes would hurry it along. After a short wait the doors slid open, they entered, and the captain quickly depressed a button. They ascended two floors before the doors smoothly opened, allowing them to exit. After a short walk down a long hallway, they finally arrived at a plain, nondescript, door.
The doorway was not like most of the others that the doctor had passed, no nameplate or section sign was visible. Had they not stopped in front of this particular door, the doctor would have thought that it was merely a janitorial room.
The captain knocked on the door and a female voice on the other side answered, “Enter.”
Motioning the doctor inside, the captain stayed in the hallway as the doctor stepped through. The door clicked shut behind the doctor and he turned in response, noticing that the captain did not accompany him through.
The doctor glanced around the sparsely furnished room and his gaze settled upon a young female officer sitting behind a desk, coldly staring at him. He approached the desk, and without uttering a single word, the young woman promptly pointed to a door. The doctor began to relay his thanks but halted as she rudely turned away, obviously ignoring him by returning to her work.
The doctor moved to the door and noticed that unlike the hallway door, this one held a simple nameplate fastened in the center of the door. It read Brigadier General Franklin Crowell.
The doctor knocked lightly and this time a gruff male voice replied, “Enter.” The doctor opened the door and stepped inside.
The office was small and barren in typical military fashion, except for a large polished oak desk sitting the middle in the room. General Crowell sat behind the desk and was scowling intently as he entered.
The general stood and motioned for the doctor to have a seat in a padded chair at the head of the desk. The general was a large man. He towered well over six feet tall and looked to be over two-hundred pounds, but it did not appear to be fat, but of knotted and corded muscle. He looked to be in his mid-fifties with black hair streaked with veins of silver and a face lined with wrinkles. His military dress uniform was covered in decorations, with several rows of ribbons and shiny badges of honor.
"Doctor, I knew you would eventually come,” the general said.
The doctor graciously took the seat and sat still for a long moment, unable to think of how to begin.
The general said flatly, "You want to know about the flying creatures that attacked the Delta team a few years ago."
"Yes, sir," replied the doctor.
"You don’t have to call me sir, you are a civilian. Call me General or General Crowell."
Doctor Burch nodded in acknowledgement and asked, "General, please tell me what you know of the attack?"
"Well, it seems that the smaller creatures that you were studying in Mexico are actually the young of a much larger creature," stated the general.
"Nessie?" asked Doctor Burch.
The general nodded and replied, "The creature you encountered in Scotland is the same species that attacked the Delta team in Afghanistan."
Doctor Burch perked up with interest. He asked inquisitively, "How do you know all of this?"
The general said, "After the attack in Afghanistan, we interviewed the survivors and learned of the creatures. Since that day, several more attacks have occurred, not only to American soldiers, but to soldiers and civilians in other countries all over the world. We dispatched six teams to study these creatures and out of the six teams dispatched, only one team returned. Of that one team that returned, there were only three survivors, however, they did manage to bring back some interesting evidence."
The doctor leaned forward in anticipation and asked, "What evidence?"
"They brought back one of the offspring. They had managed to kill it as it sucked the blood out of one of their team members," the general said, with no hint of emotion.
The doctor's eyes widened in excitement and he said, "Where is the body? Can I see it?"
"The body is safe. I will make arrangements for you to see it," the general stood and continued, "Now, if you would excuse me, I have a meeting to attend. I will contact you soon."
Doctor Burch stood as well and turned to the door. As he reached the door, a sudden thought occurred to him. He turned back and said, "General, you said that you interviewed the survivors. I thought that Bo Welsh was the only survivor of that encounter?"
The general rubbed his chin and replied, "There was one other. Now, if you would excuse me, I have to go."
The doctor held up one hand and blurted, "One more question please, and I will leave."
General Crowell paused and stared hotly. He asked, "What is it, doctor?"
"Why are you telling me all of this?" asked the doctor in genuine interest.
"You already know too much and have inadvertently let the cat out of the bag.” The general paused for a long moment, as if contemplating if he should say more. He finally said, “I had planned on having you admitted to a psychiatric hospital in order to discredit you, but by sending evidence all over the world you saved your own ass. There is no hiding it now, the world will soon know of the creature's existence.” The general rubbed the bridge of his nose and continued, “I was faced with a dilemma. I could either lock you up and be exposed in the middle of a scandal or recruit you to help me. Your knowledge of these creatures may actually come in handy for our operations."
"What operations?" asked the doctor suspiciously.
"I am sorry, but I am late for a meeting. I will contact you in a few days with the details. And remember, what he have discussed here is considered Top Secret, you will not discuss it with anyone," the general stated, his voice dripping with venom. He quickly pushed passed Doctor Burch and strode out of the room.
Doctor Burch left the Pentagon more confused than when he had first arrived.
So many questions raced through his mind. The knowledge that someone else from Bo’s team had survived gave the doctor hope that one of the biggest questions on his mind would soon be answered. What was the military hiding? He would have to find out who the survivor was, and where he was located.
The doctor booked a hotel room for the night but it wasn’t to rest. He first called Bo and gathered a list of names and details of his former team members. Using his laptop and the hotel’s free Wi-Fi, he began a search thorough countless databases, looking for matches to those names. He would research one match, only to be quickly discarded if the match didn’t fit, and move to another. After several hours of research, one match showed promise.
He had found a reference to a Terry Carter whom had been admitted to a psychiatric hospital in Denver, Colorado just after the Afghanistan incident. The man seemed to be the best lead, as what he could find out about the man seemed to match the details Bo had provided.
Satisfied he had his man the doctor printed out the address of the psychiatric hospital and went to bed.
***
The doctor had awakened early the next morning, after only a few hours of sleep, and hurried to the airport. Once there he exchanged his ticket to Milwaukee for a ticket to Denver, and caught the plane.
The doctor remained oblivious to everything around him as he sat lost in thought, as his mind pondered all of the new information that he had acquired. He ignored the flight attendant as she offered a drink and he did not hear the passenger to his left attempt to strike up a conversation.
As he sat immobile and unresponsive to the world around him, just staring out the window, when a sudden thought hit him, why didn't the military tell Bo that Carter had survived?
The fact that Bo thought Carter was dead meant that the military did not want Bo to know that Carter was alive. And with Carter in a mental institution, no one would believe the young man if he did talk. Everything pointed back to the fact that the military was hiding something.
A sudden stomach-churning drop caused the doctor to snap out of his trance. He looked around at the unfamiliar faces about him and suddenly realized that he missed his team.
He missed Ayako with her caring smile, he missed Bo and his silent strength, and he missed Ron and his Southern humor. He even missed Marty with his arrogant and argumentative attitude.
Marty was the biggest mystery of all. It almost seemed as if Marty was working for the government. He had tried to discredit the doctor at every twist and turn and had succeeded in turning the rest of the team against him. Just where did Marty fit into the puzzle?
As the doctor contemplated the situation, he realized that he had never notified anyone to let them know where he had gone. He would need to brief his team on everything that he had learned, top secret be damned. The doctor also needed his team to accompany him when he finally got to view the creature's corpse firsthand.
His mind worked in high gear as he tried to figure out how to convince the military to allow the rest of the team to accompany him. His friends’ confidence in him had been shaken, if not completely lost, and the only way to regain their trust was for them to finally see the truth. They needed to see that the he had been right all along.
The fasten seatbelt sign appeared and the captain's voice piped in cheerfully over the intercom, jolting the doctor out of his thoughts yet again. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I have just turned on the fasten seatbelt sign since we are preparing to land at Denver International Airport. Please make sure your tray tables are up and your seats are in their full upright position and please fasten your seatbelts. I hope you have enjoyed flying with us. Thank you."
The doctor sighed in relief as the plane finally touched down. He patiently waited as the plane taxied to the gate and finally stopped. As the other passengers stood to pull bags and briefcases from the overhead compartments and from under seats the doctor suddenly realized that he had not even brought a change of clothes.
He shrugged in resignation, stood from his seat, and slid in line. The flight attendant finally opened the door after what seemed an eternity.
As soon as he made it out of the plane, and into the airport, he broke into a jog. If he were going to make it to the hospital by dark, he would have to hurry.
He received more than one curious stare from passersby’s as he jogged, his large belly bouncing with each stride. His dark blue suit was rumpled and his necktie was thrown haphazardly over his left shoulder and billowed along behind him. He didn't care if people gawked as he was too preoccupied at the thought of what Carter may reveal.
After a frantic search, he finally found a car rental booth and stopped to catch his breath. Huffing with exertion he said, "I need a car, and fast," and he dropped a credit card on the desk.
The young woman behind the desk smiled and handed the doctor some paperwork. He quickly filled out the paperwork and signed the credit card statement. Snatching the keys from her hand he turned and bolted out of the building.
Chapter 12
Doctor Burch arrived at the mental hospital with only minutes to spare before visiting hours were over. He walked quickly to the guard shack and the guard lazily opened the front gate, in no obvious hurry. Passing through briskly, the doctor entered the building and walked right up to the receptionist desk. A portly lady in her late fifties sat behind the desk and slowly typed on a computer using the hunt-and-peck technique.
The doctor cleared his throat and said, "Excuse me. I need to see a patient here named Terry Carter. It’s very important."
The receptionist ignored the doctor until she had finished typing a few more words. Only then did she turn to the doctor, with an annoyed look upon her face. With one finger, she raised her spectacles to sit more comfortably upon the bridge of her nose and said in a dry, raspy voice, "Sir, visiting hours will be over in ten minutes. Perhaps you should come back tomorrow."
"I am Doctor David Burch and I need to see Terry Carter now! This is a matter of utmost importance," he replied angrily.
The elderly receptionist frowned and picked up a phone. She slowly dialed a number and waited. After a few seconds she said, "Doctor Rosenberg, there is a Doctor David Burch here, and he says that he needs to see a Terry Carter."
After a moment of silence, the receptionist hung up said, "Terry Carter is not to have any visitors. I am sorry but . . ."
Doctor Burch interrupted the woman by slamming a fist onto her desk and the woman jumped in surprise. He yelled, "I am Doctor Burch, and I am working for the U.S. Military. General Crowell sent me here to interview the patient. Let me in now, or I will be forced to call . . ."
The receptionist blanched and held up a hand. She replied, "One second, Sir, I didn't realize that you were here on the general's orders."
She picked up the phone and dialed the same number again, much faster this time. After a moment of waiting for someone on the other end to pick up, the receptionist spoke hurriedly and in hushed tones into the phone. The color seemed to drain out of her face and she nodded as if the person on the end of the phone could see her, and she hung up.
The receptionist looked up at the doctor and said, “Sir, if you could sign in here,” she pushed a clipboard forward, “and provide some identification, I would be happy to let you in.”
The doctor froze, but it was for only half a heartbeat as he suddenly remembered the Department of Defense visitor pass still within his pocket. He had failed to turn it in when he had left the pentagon, as he had been hurriedly escorted off the grounds by an irritated captain.
Although anyone in the military would know that the card was only a pass and not identification, since the receptionist was a civilian, he gambled that she wouldn’t know the difference.
Silently praying that his ruse would work, the doctor handed the receptionist his driver’s license and his university affiliation card, which identified him as a doctor. He then produced the Department of Defense visitor card, but carefully held his finger over the large bold letters
that said “Visitor.”
The receptionist’s gaze settled upon the card in the doctor’s hand and she whispered, “Department of Defense. Pentagon.” She made no move to take the card from the doctor, seemingly satisfied that he had been telling the truth. The doctor quickly signed on the clipboard, and once he was done, the receptionist handed back his identification cards.
The receptionist picked up the phone again and made another call. The doctor turned away as if disinterested, but he strained his ears to hear what she was saying.
“Yes, he is a doctor and he does have a Department of Defense identification card,” the receptionist said and hung up the phone.
The receptionist then waved the doctor to the door that led into the bowels of the mental institution. The doctor quickly moved to stand in front of the door, and as he waited patiently, the woman reached under her desk and pushed a button. A loud buzz sounded and the door clicked.
The doctor pushed through and hurried down the hall, his mouth was dry and he couldn’t remember ever having been so nervous. He was committing a crime, and he was past the point of no return.
Suddenly a dark haired man in a black suit suddenly stepped from a doorway and moved to intercept him. Doctor Burch sidestepped the man and continued to walk, hoping that if he ignored the man he would go away. The dark haired man raced to catch up with the doctor and placed a restraining hand upon his shoulder, bringing the doctor to a halt.
The doctor turned and snapped, "Now what? I have important business with Terry Carter under orders of General Crowell."
As if stung by a wasp, the dark haired man quickly removed his hand and stuttered, "I am Doctor Rosenberg, head Psychologist of this hospital. I apologize for the delay, but General Crowell had not sent word that you would be coming. What did you say your name was again?"
"Doctor David Burch. Now, where can I find Terry Carter?"
"This way, doctor," Doctor Rosenberg said and pointed down a long white corridor.
