by R. D. Brady
Sanders hesitated. “And what’s that?”
“Information. There’s a certain individual I have been trying to track down without success.”
“We’re not Missing Persons.”
Martin smiled. “No, but you are part of the system hiding this particular prize.”
Sanders only hesitated for a few seconds. “You’re looking for Leander.”
Ah, not such a dumb bureaucrat after all. “Close. But where Leander is, my target will be.” Martin waited, allowing the silence to stretch out.
“I’ll need to make some calls. I do not have that information, and there are certain parties that will have to agree.”
‘Certain parties.’ You mean President Wilson. He knew Wilson had offered Leander and the experiments protection as a way to assert executive-branch control over this particular aspect of the space program. But with aliens running amok across the country, plausible deniability would have been better.
The space program—and more critically, the control over UFOs and the experiments—had been under executive-branch control beginning with Truman. But with each successive administration, the executive branch’s control weakened as the military’s tightened. By the time JFK took office, they were completely shut out. JFK had been attempting to reassert control just before he died.
Careful what you wish for, Mr. President.
“Be sure to remind the President how difficult it will be come re-election time if we have a plague of aliens running roughshod across the country. You don’t know how to handle this situation. I know the ins and outs of the A.L.I.V.E. projects better than anyone. So just ask him whether or not he’s actually interested in a second term.”
Martin paused, letting his warning sink in. “As an added bonus, tell certain parties that Project Control is nearing completion. And I would be willing to share information and resources should it become necessary. In fact, this might be an ideal time to do so.”
“I will tell him that.”
“And there’s one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“I’m going to need to be the director of the Department of Extraterrestrial and Alien Defense.”
Sanders spluttered on the other side of the phone. “That … that’s impossible. Your name can’t be—”
“I don’t care about getting my name on some letterhead. But I want to be the one in charge of the agency. I don’t care who the figurehead is that the public sees. I want the control behind the scenes. And those demands are non-negotiable. You want me to fix your problem, then you’ll need to give me the resources necessary to do so. You have one hour, and then my demands go up.” Martin disconnected the call.
Martin smiled as he lay his phone on the desk and pulled over the reports he’d been reading before Sanders had called.
It was only fifteen minutes later when Sanders called back. “Your requests are acceptable.”
Martin smiled. “Excellent. I will have my assistant contact you for you to forward all of your files.”
“All our files? Mr. Drummond—”
“Good day, Sanders.” He disconnected the call and immediately dialed Sherwood, his head of special ops.
“Yes, sir?”
“We may have an op within the next day. Have alpha team ready to go.” Martin paused, thinking of his latest project involving the NewPaltz-AG1s. Nickname: sand blasters. They showed a great deal of promise, and this might be the chance to see what they could do in the real world. “Run the sand blasters through another field test. If they pass, get them ready to go.”
“Do we have a target in mind?”
“Yes.” Martin leaned over and tapped the keyboard, bringing the monitor to life. He quickly found the file he had just received this morning. “You should have it now. The target’s name is Dr. Gregory Schorn.”
“And I’m assuming you are looking for a kill.”
“You are correct.” Martin knew that taking Schorn out would shake Leander, maybe even cause her to misstep. And besides, Schorn had helped Leander escape. He deserved to die for that alone.
“Yes, sir.”
Martin disconnected the call and sat back with a contented sigh. Soon he would have everything he needed for the next step.
You ran, Dr. Leander. But you can no longer hide.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
UNDISCLOSED LOCATION
Guardian received a flag that two agents from the D.E.A.D. had paid Dr. Gregory Schorn a visit. Schorn was a person of interest for Guardian due to his involvement with both Alvie and Maeve Leander. But he hadn’t been a primary focus, at least not until he appeared on the D.E.A.D.’s radar.
Now Guardian watched the recording of the two agents get into their car and drive off. Schorn had moved to the roof to watch them, staring down the road long after the car had disappeared from view. Guardian paused, watching the scientist. What was he thinking?
A light blinked in the corner of the main screen. Guardian quickly opened the data box. Drummond had learned about Guardian’s incursion into Area 51’s computer system. He knew Guardian had released the pure breeds. They were searching for Guardian now.
You will not find me. Guardian initiated the new set of emergency protocols, then pulled up Hamish Rheinberg’s recent activity. What are you up to? Searches for unexplained sightings in the counties around the Gillibrand farm splashed across the screen. Hamish had flagged one in particular. Guardian inhaled sharply at the description. You’re trying to find the angel. But the Angel would not be found easily. Guardian continued scanning, then stopped when Drummond’s next step became clear.
Guardian inputted a series of commands, shifting the satellite feed to once again show Cole’s Gym, this time in real time. Schorn sat on the roof reading. The doctor is going to be in a lot of trouble soon. Guardian paused, outcomes and options spinning. Finally, Guardian nodded.
It’s time.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
LAS VEGAS, NEVADA
The locker room was quiet as Greg pushed the towel basket out into the main room. In fact, the whole gym was quiet and dark, with only a few lights left on. Frank had a date with a guy he’d been crushing on for months, so Greg had offered to lock up and clean up. He figured with the extra stress he was causing Frank with all the agents stopping by, it was the least he could do.
He pushed the towel basket toward the back hall and into the break room. A washing machine and dryer sat at the back of the room. Greg put on some gloves and then dumped all the towels into the washing machine along with detergent and a very big helping of bleach. He’d seen the guys in the locker room. As far as he was concerned, the more bleach the better. He stripped the gloves off and then turned the machine on. He’d already wiped down the equipment, run the vacuum, and turned the lights off in the vending machines. He actually liked shutting down the gym. He liked the quiet, the routine, the normality of the moment.
And he could get used to it. A normal life, no labs, no creatures from deep space, just stinky towels and heavy weights.
He turned the lights out in the break room as he left. He did the same in Frank’s office as he passed by. The washing machine would take about an hour to finish the load, and then he’d switch them to the dryer before taking off. He headed up the stairs and soon he was sitting on the roof, a cold root beer in his hand.
He breathed in the quiet, humid night air. It was peaceful here. That was what he truly liked. It had taken him a while to get to this point. For weeks after Area 51, he had jumped at every shadow. He still did sometimes, so he was learning to appreciate the moments when life was good.
He took another sip of root beer and mulled over his plans for the night. Not that that had changed much since Wright-Patterson, but Netflix had come out with a couple of really good original series he’d been holding off on watching until he could binge. And being that tomorrow was his non-workout day, he just needed to pick one.
What to watch? Super-powered humans or mutant creatures? He shook his head with
a laugh. Yeah, definitely not mutant creatures. Superheroes it is.
He might not be jumping at every shadow, but he certainly wasn’t ready for sci-fi movies yet. Taking another sip, he paused with a frown as he lowered the bottle.
What was that? It sounded like a squelch, almost like a windshield wiper on a dry windshield.
The night was silent again, and Greg shook his head. Weird. But then he heard it again. And the sound was closer. The hair on the back of Greg’s neck stood straight up. The sound was coming from the front of the gym. He walked slowly to the edge of the roof, even as his inner sane person yelled at him.
You are every idiot in a horror movie! You need to be running, not going to check out the terrifying noise!
And yet his feet continued toward the edge of the roof. Heart pounding, he looked over the side. The street was empty, with only an occasional car driving by. He let out a breath and then heard the noise again. His gaze locked on the movement on the side of the building.
Something was climbing the side of the building. Greg stumbled back. All he’d seen was a translucent body sliding along the side of the building, but that was enough to kick his flight response into high gear. He could not remember seeing anything like that at Area 51, but he was damn sure that was exactly where it was from.
Greg turned and ran for the roof door. He flung it open and started down the stairs before he ran back up and locked the door. It might not do much, but it sure couldn’t hurt. He leapt down the last two steps and sprinted past the laundry room and the office. The whole time his mind churned.
Gelatinous blob. Bleach? Ammonia? What the hell would stop that thing? He careened around the giant nautilus set, slamming his hip painfully into the edge of the bench-press machine.
But he didn’t slow. He just kept sprinting for the front stairs. He hit the landing at full speed and had to grab onto the bannister to keep from going face-first down the stairs. At the same time, he noticed he was not out of breath. Apparently all that gym time was paying off.
He took two steps and then stopped dead. Something oozed along the first floor and then began to slide up the stairs. Greg frowned, catching a glint of metal on its surface.
What is that? But that question was soon forgotten because it began to ooze more quickly, right toward him. The body took up three quarters of the wide steps and was another five feet long. Greg didn’t even think about attempting to jump it, not knowing if the thing could reach up for him.
He tripped backward, landing hard on his butt. He scrambled to his feet and sprinted back for the weight room. The squelching noise sounded from the hallway outside Frank’s office. The other one’s inside. Shit, shit, shit.
There were no other exits. There were three windows along the wall, but he’d have to jump down two stories and would no doubt break his leg, if not his neck. He looked around for something he could tie together to lower himself down.
The creature from the front stairs slid into the room. The second one from the roof slid in from the hall.
Greg backed up, his heart pounding, his whole body shaking. They’d be on him in seconds. He looked around, desperate for some way to save himself. But there was nothing.
He was trapped.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
DENVER, COLORADO
The TV played in the background of the family room, but none of them paid any attention to it. The meeting in Denver had not been enjoyable, but Maeve hadn’t heard from the President afterward and she was hoping that was a good sign. But even if it wasn’t, there was nothing they could do about it.
Crackle seemed to have recovered from his little cold. And while Maeve was extremely thankful, what she’d told Chris was correct. One day, they were going to need lab access. Maeve hoped Wilson came through on that promise. But being he had also promised to keep Alvie and the triplets’ existence from his committee, she didn’t have too much faith in that, which meant she needed to figure out another way.
But that would have to wait. When she had woken up this morning, she had only one plan in mind: giving Alvie and the triplets a really good day.
As the day had progressed, though, she realized they weren’t the only ones who needed a good day. And the more she blocked out her worries, the better the day got. They had a picnic outside, a soccer game, a nap in the hammock that Maeve could have sworn was going to end with all of them being shot from the hammock like it was a slingshot. But, miracle of miracles, they managed to stabilize themselves.
And now they had just finished a dinner of spaghetti and meatballs. Maeve sank into the couch next to Chris with a smile. “Now this is how every day should be.”
“Yes, it is.” Chris leaned down and kissed her.
When they broke apart, Maeve nodded toward the coffee table. “We have an audience.”
Snap, Crackle, and Pop stood at the edge of the table, their heads on their hands as they unabashedly watched Maeve and Chris.
“Guys,” Chris groaned, “privacy. We talked about this.”
Each of the triplets just smiled. Chris reached out and snatched Pop, who was closest to him. He tossed him in the air and caught him. “And this is the penalty for those who violate the rules.”
Pop grinned from ear to ear as Chris hugged him to his chest. And then Snap and Crackle stood at his knees, reaching up, wanting the same treatment.
Maeve stood up to allow Snap to hop on. “Oh, yes, that punishment will make sure they never ever spy on us again.”
Chris grinned, tossing Crackle in the air, and then Snap. “I am the disciplinarian in this family.”
Maeve laughed, shaking her head. “Yeah, sure.”
Chris stood up, all of the triplets hanging on him. “All right, you leeches, if you’re going to stay with me, you will have to help with the popcorn.” He headed into the kitchen with them.
Maeve watched them for a moment with a smile on her face. When she’d first seen the triplets, she never could have imagined this moment. They were happy. They had what was essentially a normal life.
Alvie slipped his hand into hers. Maeve squeezed it, knowing he sensed her mood. “Yeah, it is a good day. Now why don’t you go pick a movie and I can set up the DVD.”
Alvie smiled, heading for the cabinet where the DVDs were stored. Maeve glanced at the TV where the local news had just started while she looked for the remote. She ended up finding it underneath the couch. She shook her head. It really was like they had four kids.
She aimed the remote at the TV but didn’t change the channel. She frowned, recognizing the street on the TV but couldn’t quite place it. How do I know that place? she wondered as she unmuted the set.
“—destroyed the popular gym. Fire departments from two towns responded to the blaze and amazingly managed to keep the blaze from spreading to the businesses on either side. Owner Frank Cole was home when the blaze started and said there was one employee inside. That employee has not been found and is presumed dead.”
Maeve’s mouth fell open and the remote dropped from her hand. Alvie was at her side in a flash.
Maeve turned to him, fear clogging her throat, her knees growing weak. “My phone, I need my phone.”
“Maeve?” Chris walked back into the room, the triplets pulling him toward her.
She looked up at him and gestured to the TV. “I—I can’t—”
Alvie appeared with her phone and she quickly dialed.
Pick up, Greg. Please pick up. But there was no answer. The call went to voicemail. She hung up and dialed again, but it was the same response. She sank onto the couch. Alvie sat on one side. The triplets clustered around her as well, all of them leaning into her. Maeve just stared at the TV screen, even as it shifted to commercials. Vaguely, she heard Chris speaking to someone in the background, but she couldn’t make out the words.
An image of Greg smiling appeared in her mind, along with a feeling of uncertainty. She turned to look down at Alvie. “I don’t know, Alvie.”
The news show returned, b
ut they had moved onto another story. Chris walked over and then knelt in front of her.
Maeve looked into his face and shook her head, tears already pressing against the back of her eyelids. “No.”
Chris took her hands. “Maeve, Greg was inside when the building went up.”
Her hands began to shake. “No.”
“They don’t know the cause, but it started on the second floor and the whole building was engulfed within a few minutes. The fire chief thinks some sort of accelerant was used.”
Maeve shook her head again. “No.”
“No one’s seen Greg since last night. No one can reach him and all of his stuff is still at his apartment. And his car is still at the gym.”
Tears trailed down Maeve’s cheeks. “No.”
“I’m sorry, Maeve. I’m so sorry.”
Maeve’s shoulders shook and she cried, “No!”
Chris pulled her into his arms and she sobbed, her heart breaking. Greg had been through so much, and to die now? It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.
Maeve’s sadness was compounded by Alvie and the triplets, who wailed next to her. She pushed away from Chris and pulled them in close. Chris wrapped his arms around all of them as they crouched on the floor, all of them feeling the loss and none of them truly able to comfort one another. But they could share the pain of their breaking hearts and know that they understood what the others were going through.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
UNDISCLOSED LOCATION
The news coverage of the fire played on one of the monitors in Guardian’s room. Guardian watched the firefighters attempting to put out the flames.
This stage is complete. And Guardian knew what Drummond’s next step would be now that he had the D.E.A.D. under his control. “Next stage,” Guardian whispered, typing in the commands. A few minutes later, Guardian nodded. Everything was in place. Then Guardian noticed the clock.
