CHAPTER FOUR
OUTSIDE OF LODESTONE, on its eastern border, there sat a white van. The road into town had been barricaded as were the other main entries.
Inside the van, were a team of five men. They all stared at the images of the bloodied town. Well, all but one man. This one sat thinking, with his head heavy on one hand. While the others around spoke of success and congratulated each other on a job ‘well done,’ this one watched the monitor of a semi-truck going west along some backwater road.
Idiots, they don’t even know yet. Ugh, this whole operation, let alone the idea of working with those…those things—makes me sick!
He removed his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. Another man turned around and patted him on the back.
“Cheer up, Ian! Don’t be such a Debbie Downer.”
Ian glared at the man. “Frank, I suggest if you value the use of your hand, instead of your wife, you will leave me alone.”
Frank’s brow had formed to anger before the others convinced him to ‘leave him alone.’
A phone rang nearby the field teams’ supervisor. “Shh, shh, it’s him.” The van’s commotion quieted down as he initiated the conversation. “Sir?”
“How did the operation fair?”
The supervisor gave a thumbs-up to his team. “It went very well, sir. Precisely, to plan.”
“And what of the van?”
“It’s in our possession, the research, documentation, everything, sir.”
“Good…” there was a fatally calm pause, “were there any survivors?”
“No, sir, all were assimilated by TS-21. The replacements will arrive at 0700 and cleanup is already underway.”
Then, there was an awkward silence that befell inside the van.
“Mr. Murdoch, congratulations, you’ve just been promoted.”
The men all looked back at Ian, who had already readied his gun and aimed with precision at their heads.
“I told you miserable gnats that I wanted no survivors, and you go and let two little brats escape!” the man’s voice on the end of the line grew furious. “Your services are no longer required, gentlemen. Be thankful I don’t dispose you to TS-21 or any other of those celestial walking trash bins!”
Frank and the others all pleaded with Ian. “Sorry, boys, orders are orders, and I finally get my very own parking spot.”
Ian fired four shots into the heads of his former comrades.
“Follow them, and see if there’s anything useful that can be acquired. I want you to report to me in two hours,” the voice commanded.
“I understand, sir. I do know this. He...is with the boys, and they have the disk.” Ian cleaned off his gun and wiped the sparse specks of blood off his face with a handkerchief.
The voice seemed to growl in reply. “Keep an eye on them and move when necessary; I don’t want any more screw ups. If this gets out, then we will have a serious bullshit factor that I seriously do not need. Do whatever you deem necessary to get the job done.” The man sighed over the line. “Why is good help such a hard thing to find these days?”
“Excuse me, sir, but what about TS-21?” Ian pushed a button that projected a very bored ‘James.’ He looked up at the sky, grinning, seemingly knowing he was being watched.
The man on the phone grunted. “Eradicate it. There are too many of these, elitist vermin running amok. Thinking that, due to this arrangement they can do whatever the hell they want. Just get rid of it.”
Ian nodded to the invisible man, “Understood, sir.”
As Ian motioned to disconnect the line, the man spoke once more. “Oh, and Mr. Murdoch?”
“Sir?”
“Don’t fuck this up, or I will end you.” the man’s voice then changed to a cheery tone, “Congratulations again on your promotion.”
There was a click, followed by silence. Ian looked at the monitor of James and pressed a button on the control panel off to the right. James frantically patted himself, then angrily yelled up towards the satellite camera, before erupting into a massive pool of chromatic blood onto the ground.
Ian sighed, flipping the monitor off. He looked over at the dead bodies of Frank and the others. “I guess I should have told you, Frank. Your wife was pretty damn good last night, but hey, maybe you shouldn’t have been sleeping around.”
Ian exited out the back doors of the van and walked over towards a black car that parked a small distance from the van. He got in the car and closed the door. He pulled the charcoal sleeve up, revealing a silver wristwatch—his pale complexion in the glimpse of the time. He dug for a small remote in his coat pocket, and pressed a series of buttons, detonating the van into oblivion.
He put on his black leather gloves before adjusting the rear-view mirror. The glimpse of his bright green eyes and short dark brown hair, clean and well kept. He turned the ignition, and with haste, tore off in pursuit of the Lodestone Municipal Water truck.
Ian sighed as he drove the car hard. Why do I feel, that this whole thing is not going to end well for anyone?
He shook his head, vainly attempting to erase any doubt about his job and of morals. After all, he just got promoted and was on the track of going up the chain. Still, he couldn’t help but shake the feeling that TS-21 wasn’t dead, no matter what the higher-ups said about the process of elimination. The fact, though, that he, let alone they, were allowing these acts to carry on.
He switched the radio on, strumming his fingers to an old rock song that sang about a “…wayward son.” It would be dawn in a few hours, and he had two brothers, along with a wanted man on his to-do list.
Elsewhere, something was reforming, and it had a slew of people on its to-do list, and it had all the time in the world to spare.
Acknowledgements
Thanks to my wife for putting up with my shenanigans. You’re amazing.
I would like to thank the members of Morphine and friends. Thank you for all the wonderful music you guys have produced and to Mark Sandman [Rest in Peace].
Thanks to Buckethead for fueling me with countless hours of great music on this project and others.
Thanks to my friends for your continued support.
John Carpenter for his adaptation of Who Goes There? as the 1982 classic The Thing.
John W. Campbell for penning Who Goes There? and paving the way for a fantastic franchise.
Those involved with The Thing from Another World and The Thing [2011].
My World of Warcraft friends on the US server Aegwynn, and in the Horde guild, Revolt. You’re all demoted to ‘Village Bicycle.’
With love,
Sin
Anyone else I may have forgotten to mention...thank you.
About The Author
Robert J. S. T. McCartney loves to write about the strange and bizarre. The urban fantasy novel Lilah’s Guide to Hoyle was written in collaboration with his friend and co-author, Albert Debusschere III. He currently lives in Knoxville, Tennessee with his wife and kids.
Look for Lilah’s Guide to Hoyle coming soon!
Visit www.abnormalpublishing.com for free books, information and more.
The Lodestone Files: The Things in the Shadows Page 5
