The Road to Round Mountain II - The Alliance: By C.G Roberts

by C. G. Roberts

  Brad popped out of the car and looked up, “Helicopter coming”. I got to my feet and joined Brads gaze towards the sky. Luckily Miles parked under a hefty camouflage of trees to conceal our location. Helicopter, are you fucking kidding

  me . I didn’t really know what else I should expect, after all the people of Lincoln

  City got to watch an impromptu air show with William Shake Speer at the

  controls. That’s strange, suddenly I’m starving.

  8

  “Did you say that the car was flying”, Mr. Baily asked as he chuckled at the thought? “It was like right out of Back to the Future; up it went, then away”. “Thank you for that visual Mr. Ranker, I take it that Mr. Banks decided to go

  solo”? Mr. Ranker replied, “Just as you said he would and as you also said, greed

  breeds ignorance”. “It also brings an abbreviated life span”, Mr. Baily added.

  “Are you sure that you were not noticed”? “Not a chance sir, I climbed up to

  the roof of the Driftwood Public Library while it was still dark so I could monitor

  Carlton’s movements. As we thought he planted a bug on their rear bumper. I do love it when people are so considerate to make my life easier”.

  “One question Mr. Ranker, just how did you know he would be at Burger King”? Mr. Baily couldn’t see Mr. Ranker’s smile, but it was present. “While both of us are equal pertaining to our sniper training in the Corp, Carlton’s weakness was Burger King. When you told me the location of his assignment, I knew that he would stop there. Lady Luck shined her light on me when Billy Speer and his buddies showed up there as well”.

  “As always Mr. Ranker, you have done well. You do realize that our procurement of Mr. Speer will need to happen yesterday, if not sooner”. A brief silence followed by, “do you mind my asking what the rush is sir”? “Not at all, you see when Mr. Speer was being pursued in Astoria, the former Director John Jacob Gable was our stop gap for any entanglements with local authorities. When Mr. Speer killed him, our resources dwindled significantly; therefore the sooner the better for all concerned. I take it you have plans in place”?

  “Of course, as soon as activity dies off here, I will be in pursuit. I expect to be

  back on the road within the hour. They went, or should I say flew south on

  highway 101, plus they will be easy to find since we have two devices to track”.

  “Are you sure they were headed south”, Mr. Baily inquired. “Absolutely, why do you ask”? Mr. Ranker heard a disappointing sigh on the other end, “It seems as though our Mr. Speer is getting help as the tracking device Mr. Banks

  shot into him is currently heading north on 101. Make sure you know what and who you are dealing with before proceeding, once a location has been established”. “Reading you loud and clear, I will be in touch once I have visual ”,

  Ranker answered.

  Mr. Baily was concerned about the fact that the tracking device was no longer a passenger on the S.S. Billy. He knew that Billy was getting help, and was quite sure that the help was coming from a passenger in the car. Mr. Baily rubbed his arthritic hands temporarily rel ieving some of the constant pain while thinking back to the compounds first success, that of Daniel V. Marrick. He answers only to his middle name, Vargas.

  The damage caused by Vargas was substantial, but repairable. His escape put Mr. Baily’s agenda back six months, while the compound rebuilt. New measures were put in place to avoid another occurrence of that magnitude with stronger security, reinforced chambers, where all of the testing took place. His instructions for injecting new projects with Diazepam, an anti-depressive will be used immediately upon arrival along with hypnosis to take the fight out of the subject.

  He didn’t figure on test subjects hiding the medication in their mouth until it was clear to dispose of it. That was a mistake he would not make twice. Once a new subject comes in, he receives the injection, and then the hypnosis sessions begin shortly after.

  The entire brainwashing of a new subject could now be accomplished in less

  than a month. One more month of tra ining would follow to be able to offer the

  world’s deadliest fighting machine, to the highest bidder of course.

  A twenty minute operation will be administered upon arrival as well, to

  insert two plastic conductors which are layered using Ion beam techniques, lightly layered in metal to be utilized as a recharging point on the body. These conductors are placed on the upper back just on each side of the spine about two inches below where the neck ends. The conductors will be used to charge the human body with highly useful amounts of electricity. This in conjunction with

  the Brainwashing on all those with high levels of Telekinetic powers will produce

  an indestructible force. Once the body is fully charged, bullets will ricochet off; explosions will be absorbed like a sponge, therefore the perfect fighting machine. No damage can occur to one of his fighting machines. The conductors are undetectable at airport security; perfect, he thought.

  Mr. Baily’s research had advanced to the point of not needing those who have survived a lightning strike anymore now that they know how the body stores and can be recharged with electricity. Being his own first patient some twelve years ago when he got hit began his addiction to accomplish what no one else has. His limited telekinetic powers made it necessary to pursue others with a stronger talent. His process is in place, his procedures, infallible; three success stories have two more weeks of training before being sold to the highest bidder.

  Albert Baily had been with the CIA for years before retiring and being hit by lightning less than one month into his retirement. He could perform some amazing feats for a short period of time, before the electricity left his body for good. With the help of many of his colleagues along with some nameless members of congress, he was well funded enough to build his compound on Government property that was no longer being used in the middle of Nevada.

  The final piece to his puzzle is Billy Speer, who has defied logic with massive amounts of electricity still residing in his body. One month would be all that he needs to conclude his tests and duplicate the never ending reservoir of power that Billy possesses. One month after that he would become an extremely wealthy man.

  9

  “What do you mean let him go, have you finally lost your marbles Walt”? Captain Bill Ackers of the Lincoln City P.D., used to love to hear from his old friend; not today. “Look Bill, I know firsthand what B illy is capable of, and I’ve got a third of my town burnt to the ground to prove it, so trust me when I say let this one go”, Sheriff Pasco pleaded. “Walt, you and I go back a long way. Both of us starting out as beat cops for Portland P.D., then getting tired of the bullshit, and set out to find our own little town to run things without all the political crap, and you know me well enough that I can’t let this one go; too many witnesses saw his little group shoot and kill this guy”.

  “Witnesses’ my ass, you got a few people coming out of Burger King and see a guy fall down dead, but believe you me, Billy or whoever he was with didn’t shoot that guy”, the Sheriff replied. “How can you be so cock sure Walt”? “Billy has had

  hired killers on his tail ever since he was admitted to the Hospital. Some group in

  Nevada is trying their ass off to bring him there, but he’s been lucky so far”.

  Silence was king for a moment between two old friends. “Your last comment raises more questions than it answe rs Walt”, as Sheriff Pasco could hear a familiar

  sound. “Bill, you sent up copters didn’t you, you son of a bitch. You’d better call them off while they’re still in one piece. Billy won’t harm anyone on purpose, but I’ve seen what happens to people that piss him off”

  “Fuck that noise Walt, he pissed me off, and you’ve seen what I can do when I’m pissed”. “Not to impugn your abilities Bill, but if want to enter a pissing contest with him, you’re going to drown. “How about calling off that copter�
��?

  “Can’t, and it’s two copters; already called in Coastguard for help”. Sheriff Pasco let out a huge sigh, “Bill, I know that you want to protect your town and all, but if it’s okay with you, I’m going to head down to your neck of the woods, I need to tell you some things that I don’t feel comfortable doing over the phone”.

  Captain Ackers countered, “Well, if you hurry you can see my speech to the

  media. I’ve heard that they’re calling this; Doc Brown and Marty turn serial

  killers. Christ, that’s all I need to add to the hysterical people spreading crap

  around town. I’ve given serious thought to emptying my candy dish on the counter for when people come in to the station and fill it with Xanax”. That got Walt laughing, “I can see it now; hey officer I saw a flying car, and you guys just point to the candy dish and say, Take as many as you want”.

  Bill returned the laugh and added, “Yes those are Tic-tacs, don’t be shy.

  Okay you old fart when should I expect your big carcass”? “Give me about three

  hours”. “Hey hoss, we both know you’re a little over an ho ur away”, Bill replied. “Hey, I do have a town to run, maybe not much of one right now. I’ve got to see a couple of folks, and then I’ll be down. You still got that bottle of Wild Turkey in your desk drawer, because you’re going to need it”? “It’s that bad huh”. “It makes your flying car and dead man look like a parking citation”, the Sheriff

  added.

  Bill wasn’t sure that he wanted to know the rest of the story now. “I’ll be here

  bottle in hand”. The Sheriff ended the call. Captain Ackers got back on the phone

  with the coast guard to call off the search. He’s known Walt Pasco for too many

  years to disregard a request like that.

  Thank you for evaluating PDF to ePub Converter.

  To get full version, you need to purchase the software from: http://www.pdf-epub-converter.com/convert-to-epub-purchase.html

  10

  It took us almost three hours to get to Bend. We made a pit stop in a small

  town called Sweet Home; it was anything but sweet. The Impala was getting thirst since we made a hasty getaway and neglected to refuel . We dined on

  Sweet Homes finest chicken tenders at Hungry Hals Eats and Gas. Who could ask for more than one stop shopping?

  My energy level picked up once we ate. The chicken tenders were surprisingly good considering it was the only place to choose from. With car and bellies full of fuel are trip concluded once highway 20 blended into highway 97 where we continued south until we were just on the outskirts of town . Miles made a sharp right hand on a gravel road that led up to an old worn down shack with a detached two car garage. We all got out of the Impala as Miles backed a shiny red Jeep Wrangler out of the garage. We piled in as miles pulled the Impala into the garage.

  My confusion subsided once it was explained to me that the Impala won’t make it up the side of the mountain, and that his neighbor at the worn down shack lets them borrow the Impala whenever th ey just need to go to town. In return the neighbor gets to go off-roading whenever he feels the urge.

  Our trip was full of information. They knew all about me and saw the flaming remains of what was left of Astoria from video footage from the news. I on the other hand knew nothing of my new car mates.

  Brad Sorrento, he of raccoon eyes, hailed from Spokane, Washington. He was never struck by lightning, but had been monitored ever since he made the sprinkler system go off in high school. Two of his friends knew of his ability and

  dared him to do it.

  A few seconds of focus and pop went the glass cover, followed by the click of the lever that sets off the system. Although Brad technically never touched the alarm, those same two friends turned him to save their own skin, thus ending Brad’s High school Year and a run for his life until he happened to run into Miles.

  Brad is nineteen and the weakest of the bunch.

  Miles Doorner is in fact six foot nine. He was an auto mechanic in Limon

  Colorado. Evidently Limon is a hot bed for bad weather, and Miles did get hit by

  Lightning while driving and suffered no damage since the car grounded all the

  action. He noticed that the same black sedan was following him for a few days after the lightning strike. One night after he got off of work, two men approached him and told him to get in their car. Miles declined their offer by using his mind to toss them across the parking lot while he escaped. He went to his apartment grabbed what he could carry and headed west. He came across a young man walking down the side of the road and offered him a ride; the young man was

  Brad Sorrento. Miles is 28 and is only more powerful than Brad.

  Gary Elkoff was hit by lightning in Hays, Kansas two years ago. He had similar stories like mine when he went to the Hospital. Electrical devices stopped working, some monitors started smoking. Electricity left his body in about twenty four hours. Visitors from the FBI wanted him to go with them for some more

  tests. He used his mind to make their eyesight blurry, a trick he learned while being bullied at a local bar. His uncle owns an old house on the outskirts of Bend, Oregon . Gary’s uncle no longer lives there as he is now in a nursing home. His uncle gave him keys to the place years ago so that is where Gary would head for. Gary is 33 and is sneaky powerful, but knows he couldn’t pull off what I did in

  Astoria. That leaves Vargas!

  No one offered any stories or information on Vargas at all. When I asked, they all turned mute, which left me less than comfortable about meeting him.

  Once in the Jeep we ventured up a steep slope, not a road exactly, more of a path with ruts and rocks the size of boulders. A road not meant for those with a weak bladder. A few miles of twists and turns brought us to the top of hill with quite a view of the thousands of pine trees that surrounded us like a fortress. Miles pulled up to the cabin, and it was an old one. Miles uncle said the cabin was almost 100 years old, and it looked every bit of it. Plywood had been attached to where windows should be, or used to be. Boards on the deck leading

  up to the front door were either rotted or missing altogether.

  I’ve never actually seen a log cabin and I’m sure this one looked great years ago, but some of the logs had huge splits in them and the roof had a good six inches of moss built up everywhere. I started to head up the stairs to the front door, when Gary hollered, “Not that way, you’ll fall straight through, that shit won’t hold the weight of a raccoon”. I reversed field and followed them to the

  side of the cabin.

  I followed the clan up the concrete stairs through the side door of the cabin. I almost felt like apologizing for downing how bad the outside looked. Once inside the first thing to come to mind is the combination, stale gym locker meets mildew

  battle. It appeared larger on the inside that what you would think from

  impression the outside gave you. Off to my left was what appeared to be a living

  room with an old sofa with more holes than fabric? On the far wall was the fire

  place that the sofa was facing. It was filled with spider webs, so cozying up to

  warm fire seemed out of the question.

  As was the case outside, there was plywood affixed to what used to be

  windows inside as well. Beyond the living room was the dining room; the large

  table and six chairs gave it away.

  There was a hallway straight ahead where I’m guessing the bedrooms are.

  To my right was the kitchen, a very old kitchen. There was an old wood stove

  with no wood next to it. The sink looks as though it might weigh a few hundred pounds being thick cast iron. The cabinets were missing cabinet doors, or maybe there never was any. Most everything was empty in the cabinets except for a few cups and small plates.

  Out of all these antique appliances and fixtures was a new fridge; it had one of those levers to get ice without opening up the freeze
r. Looking around, I couldn’t get over the fact that everything I saw so far had layers upon layers of

  dust. I was confused by that fact that if they stay here that there seems to be no signs that anyone has lived here for years, except for the fridge. I cheated and focused on the fridge for a second. I found out while playing cards with my friend

  Gordon I could see through things, which makes playing poker much more enjoyable. I’m not sure if being hit by lightning had anything to do with my newest talent, but it seemed to surface at the same time I realized I could move

  things with my mind.

  I continued my gaze on the fridge. “Hey a twelve pack of Dr. Pepper, are those for anyone”, I asked politely? The three of them stared at me like I was speaking a foreign language. Brad replied, “How the hell did you know what was

  in there”? I turned my gaze to the left side where the freezer was located.

  “Hmm, eight Red baron pizza, six packages of burritos, and two boxes of Nestle

  ice cream cones”. Like he was shot out of a cannon, Brad raced over to the fridge,

  threw open the freezer door, then his arms hung limp by his side.

  Brad turned to me and said, “I don’t get it, what’s the trick”? Miles and Gary

  stood there with their mouth’s hung open like baby birds waiting to be fed. “I

  don’t know the trick, I just found out I can see through shit a couple of weeks

  ago”, I recounted.

  “So, when do I get to meet Vargas”? Miles muttered, “Vargas has issues”. Brad countered, “No, Jeffrey Dahmer had issues, Vargas would make Dahmer look like a choir boy”. Somewhat concerned, I took a quick peak at the stove to make sure there were no huge stew pots brewing away. No head stew for me; thank you very much for that visual Brad.