by R. D. Brady
CHAPTER FOUR
Blood pounded in Sandra’s ears as she barreled down the drive. She paused for only a few seconds at the large path that had been carved into the cornfield. Then Luke screamed.
“Luke! I’m coming, Luke!” Her hands slick with sweat, Sandra tore through the field, barely feeling the rough ground cutting up her bare feet. All she could picture was that thing going after her son.
Screams, different from Luke’s, sounded from ahead, sending chills through her. It sounded like something was being torn apart. Not Luke. Please don’t take Luke.
Something came flying at her and Sandra dove for the ground with a roll. Heart pounding, she looked back at what had nearly hit her as she got to her feet.
It was an arm—a hairless blue arm. Ahead, an object lay across the path carved in the field. She backed up, her eyes wide. It was one of the things, or at least part of it. One leg, some of its waist. She’d seen the aftereffects of IEDs in Afghanistan, but this was something different. She stepped over the parts and spied the other half of the body twenty feet away.
She moved forward, the shotgun securely in her arms, terror stealing over her. What could rip that thing apart?
“Luke?” she whispered. But there was no response. She followed the string of broken stalks, searching the area until the trail ended. She looked around but couldn’t see him anywhere. She searched for another twenty minutes, pushing through the towering corn, her panic growing. She knew she need but she couldn’t bring herself to leave. Finally, though she forced herself to backtrack out of the field. She wasn’t going to be able to search the field herself. She jogged back toward the drive, hoping the deputies had arrived.
Luke, where are you? She tried to keep her mind from going to a dark place, but it was so hard. Luke was a sweet soul. He didn’t understand danger the way other people did. He didn’t know how to fight. To be honest, the fact that he’d even run away from those things had shocked the hell out of her.
He’s okay. He has to be. As she stepped out of the cornfield, a bright flashlight shone in her eyes. She put a hand up to block the glare.
“Sandra?” The flashlight lowered and Deputy Dave Carson stepped forward.
“Dave, thank God.” Dave had been friends with both her and Noah in high school.
“Jesus, Sandra, what the hell is going on? I saw that thing in your kitchen.” He glanced down. “Your feet are bleeding.”
Now that she was talking out loud, the reality of what had chased Luke hit her full force. And she started to shake so hard, she thought she might split apart. “Luke. One of those things went after him. It chased him into the cornfields. I can’t find him.”
Dave grasped her arm, speaking in an even tone. “Okay, Sandra, you need to take a breath. I called for backup, and I’ll call the O’Hare Farm and get some people to help. We’ll find him. Did you say there’s another one of those things?”
“It’s dead.”
“You?”
She shook her head, more tremors running through her as she flashed on the body parts in the field. “I don’t know what happened. I heard screaming, and when I got there the thing had been ripped apart.” She turned back for the field. “But Luke’s still—”
Dave grabbed her shoulder. “Hey, you need to go take care of those feet.”
“No, I—”
“I will look for Luke. You go to the farmhouse in case he doubled back. You don’t want him walking into the kitchen and seeing that thing. Get your feet bandaged up. There’s a kit in my car. And let the guys know where I am.”
Sandra wanted to argue with him, but the adrenaline was wearing off and she was beginning to feel the sting of the cuts on her feet. She’d get them bandaged, take a handful of aspirin, and head back out. “Okay. But Dave, find him, okay?”
“I will. Now go.” He pushed her gently back toward the farmhouse.
Sandra started back to the house, walking on the edges on her feet as the pain increased. She was limping as she stepped into the light given off by the barn, and reality set in. She had defeated that thing because she had a shotgun. Luke had nothing. And there was something else out there that had managed to rip that blue thing apart.
A hole felt like it had opened up in the middle of her chest, making it hard to breathe. And the fear she had been holding at bay came crashing down on her like a tsunami. She stumbled. Oh God, Luke.
The barn door opened with a squeak. Sandra whirled around, pulling the shotgun up.
“Mom?” Luke stepped out.
Sandra’s mouth fell open. And then she was running and crying. She pulled him to her. “Luke, oh, Luke. Thank God.” She crashed to her knees in front of him, pushing his hair from his face tears streaming down her cheeks. “You’re okay. You are okay, right?”
Luke nodded, but she could see the tear trails running through the dirt on his face. She hugged him again, promising herself she was never letting him out of her sight again. And she was never complaining about anything again ever in her life. She had her Luke back. So many emotions were running through her, she was shaking. She truly thought she had lost him. She looked into his face, trying to figure out how she hadn’t. “Luke, how did you get away?”
“Sammy. He saved me.”
Sandra went cold. “Sammy?”
“He saved me.”
Sandra’s mouth dropped open and she had no idea what to say. Sammy was imaginary. Luke had been talking about him for about a week. But there was no Sammy. Still shaking, she got to her feet, taking his hand. “Come on. Let’s get you to—”
A movement on the roof of their house pulled her attention. In one move, she pushed Luke behind her and pulled her shotgun up. Red eyes looked down at her and Sandra’s pulse raced.
“No, no, Mom.” Luke stepped from behind her, pushing down the barrel of her weapon. “That’s Sammy.”
Sandra looked down at him in shock and then gasped as the thing on the roof stood. It was at least seven feet tall and dark, although she couldn’t tell what color it was. Then it unfurled its wings.
The wingspan was at least seven feet across, and they weren’t fluffy bird wings. No, these had points and looked like bat wings. The creature stared down at them as Luke waved up at it. “Hi, Sammy!”
Sandra pulled Luke close as the creature lifted off. She couldn’t tear her eyes from it as it levitated in place for a moment, and then it began to fly away with great swings of its enormous wings. Luke broke free from her and limped a few feet ahead before Sandra shook herself from her stupor. She grabbed Luke’s shoulder, holding him in place. But Luke just kept looking up at Sammy’s disappearing figure.
“Bye, Sammy!” he yelled with a wave.
Sandra couldn’t bring herself to say anything. She couldn’t bring herself to think. The two of them watched until Sammy disappeared from view. Sandra looked down at Luke. “That was Sammy?”
“Yeah, he’s my friend.”
Lights flashed as a patrol car sped into the driveway. Doors slammed as two deputies ran up to her. “Sandra? Is everything all right? What’s going on?”
Sandra looked up into the sky where Sammy had disappeared, and then back at the deputies. “I have no idea.”
CHAPTER FIVE
DENVER, COLORADO
Maeve Leander placed the phone back on the kitchen counter with a sigh, feeling years older than when she began the day.
“Same request?” Chris Garrigan asked as he took a seat at one of the stools at the kitchen island. Maeve nodded looking up into Chris’s blue eyes.
“Come here.” Chris opened his arms. Maeve walked around and leaned against him as he wrapped his arms around her.
“So what was the argument this time?” he asked.
Maeve shook her head, preferring to forget about the conversation but knowing that wasn’t an option. Every week since they had taken up residence here, one of President Graham Wilson’s aides called with a request. At first it was for Maeve to agree to a series of invasive medical test
s for Alvie and the triplets. She had declined—adamantly. Then it shifted to psychological tests. Soon they wanted her to bring the hybrids to meet different doctors. Maeve turned them all down. She had been in charge of Alvie’s care for the last few years. And before that, it had been her mother.
Alvie had been created almost thirty years ago in a lab. He was a clone of human hybrid DNA taken from a skeleton found in a Mexican cave. Dr. Alice Leander, Maeve’s mother, had raised Alvie as if he was hers. Maeve had thought of him as her brother even though he had never been allowed out of the lab created for him at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base.
But all of that had changed when Martin Drummond had taken over as head of the Bureau of Scientific Advancement and Cooperation (BOSAC). He’d called for all alien projects to be moved to a more secure location—Area 51. Alvie, who’d been treated like a sentient being for his entire life, was all of a sudden being treated like an animal. The accommodations at 51 for him were little better than a prison cell.
But the terror she’d felt at the prospect of Alvie’s future at 51 was nothing compared to the terror she’d felt when the other creatures held at 51 escaped. She, Chris, and Alvie had found the triplets during their desperate attempt to get to safety. And it was only due to the intervention of Wilson’s personal security detail that they survived. And he had kept them hidden for the last few months.
But now the President was getting frustrated with Maeve’s unwillingness to share the hybrids. But how could she? Wilson’s people didn’t think of them as anything more than a science experiment. And they were so much more than that.
Maeve sighed. “He wants me to meet with his science committee. Apparently not all aliens were contained to 51 during the breakout. He thinks I can add insight into their searches for them.”
“Well, maybe you should. It’s a small bone to throw him, and you’re going to have to give him something.”
Maeve blew out a breath. “I know.”
The front door burst open and Snap sprinted in. Standing at just under three feet, Snap was a light-gray color tinged with pink, with large black eyes on a disproportionately large triangular face. Unlike her twin brothers, Snap had long white hair that had recently started to come in thicker. Crackle and Pop were right behind her with Hope, a black-and-white six-month-old retriever, and Alvie brought up the rear. Snap ran to Maeve and held a bouquet of wildflowers up to her.
Maeve extracted herself from Chris. She knelt down to accept the flowers. “These are beautiful.”
Snap beamed. Crackle nudged Snap aside and handed Maeve his own bundle, followed by Pop. “These are all beautiful, too.” She kissed each of them on the forehead. Love wafted over her and she smiled. They couldn’t talk, but they had an ability to project their emotions and thoughts to be understood.
The triplets had really blossomed in the last few months. The President had set them up on a ranch outside Denver and they were surrounded twenty-four seven by armed security. But the security never came near the house. And the triplets and Alvie had acres and acres of undeveloped land to roam around on. They took full advantage of being outside. Even their vision, which was sensitive to light, seemed to be adapting to allow them to be outside more on sunny days.
Maeve looked over the triplets’ heads to Alvie and saw a feeling of contentment on his face as he rubbed his hand through Hope’s fur. Alvie, too, had seemed happier here than she’d ever seen him.
Maybe I should meet with the committee. Chris was right. It was a small price to pay to keep the ranch secure. Maeve stood. She’d decide that later. Right now she had more important things to discuss.
“Okay, who’s going to help me make cupcakes?”
CHAPTER SIX
TWO DAYS LATER
Maeve read through a news report on her laptop about a suspicious sighting in Reno, Nevada. An unidentified creature had been sighted outside a trailer park. Trackers from the area said they’d never seen the tracks that the creature left behind before.
Guess that’s a 51 escapee.
She scrolled onto another page, and a small sneeze sounded behind her. Maeve whirled around. Crackle moved quickly behind Alvie, peeking out at her with big eyes.
Maeve forced her tone to be calm. “Crackle, honey, was that you? Did you sneeze?”
He nodded slowly.
Maeve’s heart rate ticked up a beat even as she forced a smile to her face, holding out her hand. “Well, how about if we go see what that’s all about, okay?”
Twenty minutes later, Maeve had Crackle tucked into bed, the Disney channel on to keep him entertained. She’d sent Chris outside with Alvie, Pop, and Snap.
She closed the bedroom door quietly and leaned against it, her head down. No fever, slight congestion, the beginnings of a cough.
Oh God.
She pushed away from the door, carrying her medical bag to the kitchen, and placed it on the counter. Then she sank into one of the stools at the island.
The front door opened and Chris stepped inside, making his way over to her. “Hey. How’s Crackle?”
Maeve forced herself to look at the problem unemotionally and told him what she’d observed.
Chris watched her closely. “But you’re worried.”
“Yes.”
“Why? It sounds like he just has a little cold.”
“These is no such thing as a little cold when it comes to them.”
Chris sat on the stool next to her. “I don’t understand.”
“When Alvie was ten, a new technician was hired to manage Alvie’s equipment. He added to what was there and wiped everything down after Alvie ran the course. But he and Alvie never met, never saw one another.” Maeve went silent, remembering how scared she’d been back then.
Chris took her hand. “What happened?”
“Alvie started to weaken. His energy levels dropped dramatically. He became lethargic. My mom was frantic. She couldn’t figure it out. Finally she ran a basic allergy test. It turned out Alvie was allergic to chocolate. The problem was, we never gave him chocolate.”
Chris frowned. “The technician.”
“Yes, but not in the way you’re thinking. He had a chocolate bar every afternoon before he serviced the equipment. There were only microscopic traces, but it was enough to affect Alvie. But if my mom didn’t have access to labs, she’d never have figured it out. As much as I know about Alvie’s biology, there’s legions I don’t know. And for the triplets, I know even less. Yes, they’re Alvie’s clones, but how, where, and when they were created all could have affected them differently. So even though it looks like Crackle has a simple cold, I can’t know that for sure without access to a lab.”
“And even though you think this probably is a cold, you’re worried about the day when it’s not a simple cold.”
Maeve nodded. “Everything they are being exposed to now is new, even for Alvie. Grass, sunlight, even the chemicals in the couch. And at some point, we are going to run into a problem. And that’s not an ‘if,’ it’s a ‘when.’”
Chris was silent for a moment. “So what do you want to do?”
“I want access to a lab with no strings attached.”
Chris gave a small laugh. “I don’t think that’s an option.”
Maeve sighed. “No. It’s not. But we’re going to need access.”
“Well, those four are very important to the United States government. It’s in their best interest to keep them healthy.”
“Yeah, but what will they ask for in return?” Maeve gestured to the house. “President Wilson has made it clear he is not doing this out of the goodness of his heart.”
“And if we don’t play ball …“
Maeve sighed. “Then neither will he.”
“So you’re going to that meeting.”
She nodded. “I don’t think I have a choice.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
DEPARTMENT OF EXTRATERRESTRIAL AND ALIEN DEFENSE HEADQUARTERS
LAS VEGAS, NEVADA
Taking a de
ep and what she hoped was also a calming breath, Agent Norah Tidwell straightened her shoulders before she knocked on her supervisor’s door.
“Come in,” came the muffled reply from behind the closed door.
Norah opened it and stepped inside. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
Julio Sanders looked up from his screen. Brown hair graying at the temples, with equally brown eyes, Sanders was a bureaucrat through and through. He ran the newly minted department efficiently and with no frills. When Norah had first met him she’d been impressed by his confidence and his openness to suggestions. Now she realized Sanders was just making sure he had someone else to blame if the suggestion did not play out as planned.
“Norah. Good. I have some new assignments for you. But first, tell me about the Gillibrand incident. I was just pulling up your report.”
Norah took a seat in one of the chairs in front of Sanders’s desk. “It was two Blue Boys.” The Blue Boys’ official title was Dulce-AG1. The aggressive creatures had incredible strength and a bite almost equal to that of an alligator. And it had a bulbous skull and gorilla-like body. But its most notable characteristic was its color. It was a light blue, hence the nickname.
Sanders groaned and Norah knew from experience he was calculating the potential financial payout to the next of kin. And she tried not to hate him for it. “How many casualties?”
“Just the two blues.”
Sanders raised an eyebrow. “Someone took down two of them? He must be one tough son of a bitch.”
“Yes, she is. Former Marine, she took down one in her kitchen with a shotgun at close range. The other chased her son, age ten, into a cornfield. She gave chase but came across only parts of the Blue Boy.”
“Parts?”
“Yes. She claims she did not take down the second one. And after viewing the body, I agree she could not have done it. It was ripped apart.”
