A.L.I.V.E. (The A.L.I.V.E.Series Book 1)

by R. D. Brady

  John called Maeve’s cell, but his call was immediately directed to voicemail. He tried Chris’s and received the same treatment. He wasn’t overly surprised as he doubted their cell phones were even allowed on the base. He found the number for one of his contacts out at 51 and dialed. “Jim? John Forrester.”

  “John, how you doing?”

  “Good, good. Listen, I’ve got some people that were supposed to be transferred out to 51. All their transfers have been cancelled. Do you know what’s going on?”

  “No, that just—You know what, let me call you back. I’ll see what I can find out.”

  “Jim, Maeve’s out there. I just want to make sure she’s all right.”

  “I’ll call you as soon as I know something.”

  “Okay.” John hung up the phone, a fear taking hold of him and not letting go.

  She’s fine. Chris is with her. She’s fine.

  He had chosen Chris because he knew how capable he was. But he also knew he would be good for Maeve. Someone her age who would make her laugh, because Maeve’s life was her work. And the fact that Chris was with her did offer him some comfort.

  But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had happened. Something that was completely out of his control.

  And that scared the hell out of him.

  He might be the commander of Wright-Patt, but his control was not complete. There were some projects on his own base that even he was not privy to the details of. And Area 51 was the most secretive base in the world. As much as he wanted to believe Maeve would be fine, he knew that there was a dark side to America’s military. He just prayed Maeve wasn’t seeing that dark side up close and personal.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Maeve, Chris, and Alvie paused in the stairwell outside of the door leading to level eleven. As Chris eased the door open, Maeve stood against the side of the wall with Alvie, the shotgun she had taken from a downed security officer carefully tucked into her side while Chris scanned the hall. Flickering light illuminated the hallway.

  “You know, when I said I was in charge I meant it. You two have no respect for authority,” Chris grumbled.

  “Well, we tried to follow you. But that didn’t exactly work, did it?” Maeve asked.

  She gave him a tight smile, feeling the fear holding her tight. She and Alvie had tried to follow Chris out of the building. But something had blocked their way when they left the hall. They’d escaped into the stairwell, only for something to block their way up. She hadn’t gotten a good look at it, but the slither it made followed by a scream and then gunfire had Chris ordering them down the stairs as fast as they could manage.

  Maeve had pointed out that since they were heading down anyway, they might as well head to eleven. It’s not like they could go up. Even so, it had been a nightmare-filled trip. She’d seen seven dead humans with different wounds—one was missing an arm, one had swollen up, looking as if they were going to burst, another had a huge gash in his chest.

  Maeve didn’t know what had caused those injuries, but she did know it wasn’t just one alien. Which begged the question of exactly how many alien species did the United States have? And exactly how many were now free?

  But even with the stairwell of nightmares, she wanted to head to eleven. She knew it wasn’t the safest option. But Alvie was adamant about coming down here. She’d never seen him like this before. It wasn’t just curiosity. He was worried about something down here. Chris had finally relented when he’d realized that Maeve was going to go with Alvie alone. And she would have, but she was very glad to have Chris along.

  Chris looked back at them. “Okay. We’re in and out. Got it?”

  Maeve nodded.

  “Alvie?” Chris asked.

  He nodded as well.

  Chris motioned them forward. The hallway expanded to the right and then left and turned another twenty feet down, leading to other hallways. The floor was a dark gray tile, as were the walls. And the entire floor was silent save for the sound of the air conditioning. The flickering lights did nothing to cheer the space up.

  Chris turned right, but Alvie clutched his hand and motioned left.

  Chris sighed. “You’re killing me, you know that, right?”

  Alvie just looked up at him.

  “Okay, buddy, you’re in charge.” Chris glanced at Maeve. “You’re sure he’s not leading us to some of his friends, right?”

  “From how you’ve described them and what I’ve seen, I don’t think they’re his friends.”

  Alvie went still as they approached the corner and let out a gasp. Then he ran forward.

  “Alvie!” Maeve reached for him, but he was gone.

  Chris held her back. “Hold up.”

  He glanced around the corner before turning back to her. “Come on.” He led her forward. Maeve itched to sprint forward and find Alvie, but the fear of what might grab her kept her tucked in behind Chris.

  They reached the end of another hall, and Maeve’s nerves were pulled so tight she knew they were going to snap at any moment. Behind them, she heard the door to the stairwell open. But it wasn’t footfalls that sounded but a sliding sound.

  She grabbed Chris’s arm. “Chris.”

  “I hear it.”

  Ahead, she heard Alvie’s wail.

  “Damn it. Is he trying to get them to find us?” Chris muttered before turning the corner and hurrying down the hall. Alvie stood outside a door labeled 11 AI1.

  “Alvie, we need to go,” Chris whispered.

  The number of the room flashed through her mind. “He wants to go in there.”

  Chris looked between the two of them. “You two know this place is crawling with aliens, right? No offense, Alvie.”

  Alvie just looked at him and the door. Chris winced. “Okay, not so loud.”

  Inside the room, something crashed. Alvie threw himself at the door.

  Maeve reached out and pulled Alvie to her as Chris keyed open the door. “Okay. Okay.”

  As soon as it opened, Alvie flew in.

  “No!” Maeve yelled.

  “Shit,” Chris said, pulling his weapon to his shoulder. Two animals were in the room. They were gorilla sized but they had no hair and were a pale blue. Their heads were round and bulbous, but when they turned they hissed. Maeve got an eyeful of sharp incisors.

  Oh my god. Alvie sprinted past them for the glass enclosure at the back.

  Maeve pulled her shotgun around and pulled the trigger. She caught one in the hand. Chris caught the other in the chest. It should have been a kill shot, if it had been a gorilla. Apparently the hearts of these things were located somewhere else.

  Chris unloaded shot after shot, but Maeve’s weapon stayed silent as she watched the being. There. Just above its waist on the right hand side she saw a pulse in the skin. She pulled the trigger and hit the exact spot. The being toppled over.

  “At the waist on the right,” she yelled.

  Chris wasted no time following her instructions. The second creature fell.

  Maeve’s breaths came out in gasps and she felt light-headed. She stared at the creature, both intrigued and terrified by their existence. They looked so much like gorillas. Had someone mixed DNA? She looked back at Alvie. Is that how he’d been created?

  “How’d you know?” Chris asked.

  She blinked, focusing back on Chris. “What?”

  “The kill shot. How’d you know?”

  “It’s where Alvie’s heart is.”

  At his name, she turned to where he was. His face and hands were pressed against the glass enclosure. Maeve moved to his side.

  He looked up at her, tears running down his cheeks. Maeve gasped. “Alvie, what’s wrong?” He looked back inside the cage.

  Maeve did the same and went still, her world tilting out of orbit. Inside, three small beings only two feet tall were huddled in a corner.

  And they all looked exactly like Alvie.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Washington, D.C.

 
; Wanda Heig listened as Mr. Lai, the Chinese delegate, explained his country’s displeasure at the change in position of the Pacific fleet due to the landing of a military jet on China’s man-made island, thousands of miles from China’s borders, in the South China Sea. Most of the world viewed the island as China’s attempt to extend its boundaries.

  No one was more concerned about that expansion than the Philippines, as the area where the island was built was within an area that they claimed. But they weren’t the only ones concerned. The sea lane where the island had been built was extremely busy with commerce, making the rest of the world take an interest as well.

  Wanda rubbed the bridge of her nose as the translator from China explained that the Chinese government had no intention of using the island for military purposes.

  “Mr. Lai, if that is true,” Wanda said, “why was a military jet seen landing and departing from the island seven hours ago?”

  Wanda waited while the question was translated, cursing China for pushing boundaries they didn’t need to push.

  “There was a humanitarian need for the jet to transport three ill workers from the island,” the translator said.

  “And it wasn’t a test to see if the recently completed runway was long enough to accommodate longer military jets?” Wanda asked.

  Ten seconds of silence followed while the translator spoke with Mr. Lai. “No, of course not, Madam Secretary. It was a purely humanitarian gesture.”

  Wanda watched Mr. Lai, but he simply looked back at her without blinking. “I see.” She wrapped up the conversation within a few minutes. There was nothing more to be gained. And she had done what she had intended to—let the Chinese know that their actions were not going unnoticed, and therefore subtly issuing a threat with the movement of part of the Pacific fleet closer to the China mainland.

  The Chinese had also gotten what they wanted—testing how well their actions were being monitored and determining the military possibilities regarding the island.

  Back in her office, Wanda rifled through her papers on the island for a moment before she pushed back from her desk with a sigh.

  Some days, it’s just not worth it.

  She walked over to her window and stared at the traffic below. When she’d been younger, this was not the direction she had expected her life to take. But early on in her career at State, she’d learned she was good at two things—one, understanding what people were really trying to say despite their words, and two, getting whatever she needed to get done, done. Both skills had served her well. And had landed her in this particular office. But some days, she seriously considered dropping it all and opening up a nursery somewhere. Surrounding herself with flowers that had no ulterior motives sounded like heaven.

  A knock at her door caused her to turn as her assistant poked his head in. “Madam Secretary? You received a call from Colonel John Forrester while you were meeting with the Chinese delegate. He said it was urgent.”

  John?

  Surprise flashed through her. She hadn’t spoken with John in two years. She had meant to call him when Alice died, but somehow never found the time. And then so much time passed, it felt awkward. “Did he say what it was about?”

  “No, ma’am. But he sounded concerned.”

  Concerned? That was not John’s usual state. He was unflappable. “Get him on the phone.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The phone on her desk buzzed a moment later. “Colonel Forrester on line one, ma’am.”

  Wanda took her seat as she reached for the phone. “John. Good to hear from you.”

  “Wanda, good to hear your voice too. It’s been too long.”

  “I was sorry to hear about Alice. I meant to reach out but—”

  “It’s all right. I don’t deal too well with sympathy.”

  Wanda smiled, picturing John during their early years together at the Pentagon. “That I do remember. So how are you? Adam said there was some urgency.”

  The warmth left John’s tone. “Yes. I have a dozen staff members who have already been vetted for a spot out in Nevada. But they’ve been informed the positions have been cancelled. I haven’t been able to learn anything about why.”

  Nevada—51. A chill stole over her. “Well, perhaps the projects have simply been cancelled.”

  “That’s the thing, these projects have been going on for years. The people scheduled to head out there have been working on the projects for years. They’d never be able to get anyone up to speed in time. And I know that some of my people are working on the same projects out there already. They left a few days ago. But I can’t seem to reach any of them.”

  Wanda didn’t pause in her speech, but her mind raced. “There could be any sort of reasons for that. They could be trying out a new technology that blocks calls base wide. Honestly, out there anything is possible.”

  “Could you just check and make sure there’s nothing else going on? It feels like something is up.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out and get back to you.”

  “Thanks, Wanda. I’ll be waiting for your call.”

  Wanda hung up the receiver. She punched the intercom. “Adam, get me Director Fezza immediately.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She waited, drumming her hands on the desk. It was nothing. John was overreacting, although if she was being honest, she had never known him to do so.

  Her intercom buzzed and she picked up the phone.

  “Ma’am, I can’t get through to Director Fezza’s office. I tried some of the other offices and I was unable to reach them either. It seems like no calls are going through to the base.”

  Wanda hadn’t been sure when she had nominated Martin for the BOSAC position that he was the right fit. But agency heads across the spectrum had supported him—Buckley from the CIA, Freely at the NSA, Danner from State, even Brenner from the FBI, albeit grudgingly.

  But she had seen glimpses of the man behind the mask, and those glimpses made her uneasy. And now after he’d moved some of the government’s most secret projects, no calls were going through. Transfers had been cancelled. And if something had gone wrong, it wasn’t Martin who should be blamed but Wanda. Her gut had told her something was off about the man, but she had let others sway her. God damn it, Martin.

  “Find me Martin Drummond. Immediately.”

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Greg raced up the stairs next to Leslie. “How did they all get out?”

  “I don’t know.” Leslie put out a hand to stop him, putting a finger to her lips. They’d entered another stairwell and had made it only two floors. Above them, a sliding sound filtered down the stairs followed by a slurp. Whatever was coming toward them was not human.

  Leslie grabbed the door handle and, pausing for a deep breath, wrenched it open, her gun pulled into her shoulder. Two bodies lay in the hallway. One was a soldier, one was a scientist, and neither was moving. Leslie reached down and checked the pulse of each of them.

  She looked up at Greg and shook her head. Greg reached down and picked up the automatic weapon lying next to one of the soldiers.

  “Uh, what are you doing?” Leslie asked.

  Greg looked from the weapon to Leslie. “Preparing to defend us?”

  “Have you ever shot a weapon before?”

  “Hey, I’ve played Call of Duty and I’ll have you know, I’m an incredible shot.”

  Leslie stared at him, her mouth hanging open before she shook her head. “We are so doomed.”

  “I got this, Leslie. Okay?”

  She searched his eyes for something before she nodded. “Okay. So let’s go.”

  Behind them, a thump sounded at the door. Greg’s head whipped around, expecting one of the gray beings to show up. But the door didn’t open. Instead, something pale pink and two feet wide slid underneath it. Leslie pulled Greg behind her, keeping her weapon trained on the thing. It looked like someone had started to melt a starfish and stopped halfway through the process.

  It slid alo
ng the ground toward Greg and Leslie as they backed up. Greg grimaced as it crawled over one of the bodies, leaving a trail of wetness behind it. And then the body where the thing had touched it began to disintegrate.

  “Acid. Its saliva is some type of acid,” Greg whispered.

  “Got that.” Leslie opened fire. The starfish jumped back. One of Leslie’s shots cut off one of its arms. But then the detached arm began to form another one of the melted starfish.

  “Not working, Les. That’s not working,” Greg said, on the edge of panic. He looked at the thing, his mind scrambling to figure out a way to stop it. Bullets cut into it but it healed almost immediately and barely slowed down.

  Leslie grabbed his arm. “Run.”

  Greg did, but his mind churned. There had to be something they could fight it with. Everything had a weakness. He glanced back. The starfish and its twin were gaining on them.

  He looked around frantically but the hallway was empty save for— Yes! He sprinted ahead, Leslie on his heels, and stopped at the fire extinguisher, yanking it from the wall. Pulling the pin, he aimed it at the first being. A yellow powder shot out from the extinguisher, coating the being. Its movements slowed and then stopped. Then it began to crystallize. Not waiting, he took aim at the second. It also crystallized.

  “What the hell?” Leslie asked, her eyes large.

  “It’s a dry fire extinguisher. It coats something, preventing the oxygen from getting through. They basically just suffocated.”

  “Why the crystallization?”

  “I don’t know. It could be a defense mechanism or some sort of chemical reaction.”

  “Uh-huh.” Leslie walked over and slammed the butt of her rifle into each one, smashing them into a thousand pieces.

  Greg looked at her.