CHAPTER FIVE
VIRGIN TERRITORY
1
The pitcher stood on the mound checking on the first-base runner’s lead off the bag. Winding up his pitch, he threw a heater across the plate.
“Strike two,” the umpire called out.
“Wow. It is hard to imagine Robinson has any more of his famous ninety-four mph heaters left in him. I know the fans here at Dodger stadium sure hope he doesn’t. Except, he has been throwing those blazing fastballs right across the plate all day long,” Owen Sandy informed the nervous crowd in his distinct, hard-graveled sport commentator’s voice.
After throwing the ball back, the catcher squatted down into position and flashed some call signs to the pitcher with a series of downward pointed fingers between his legs.
“Facing a three-two count, with two outs in the bottom of the ninth, and runners on first and third, it is now up to Clem Sanders to see if he can break this three all tie, and hit the Nevada Dodgers into the World Series for the first time since the restart of Major League Baseball. And, as an added bonus, simultaneously keep their fierce rivals, the Chicago Cubs, out for the first time.”
After frustrating the catcher by shaking off several call signs, the pitcher finally got the one he wanted. Giving an affirmative nod, he repeated his wind-up process.
“Sanders hit a record high twenty-five home runs off Robinson, but has no hits in his last six attempts at bat.” Owen briefly raised the fans hopes with the old stats, before crushing them with the updated one. “Now, here is the pitch….and the swing.”
As another heater burned across the plate, Clem swung for the fences, hitting only air. The force of his swing spun him around in a continued motion of frustrated momentum, enhanced by the umpire’s redundant call.
“Strike three, you’re out.”
“Well, it looks like we are heading into extra innings, folks,” Owen said as he tried to appease the disappointed Nevada fans with some final words of hope. “So just sit back and enjoy the rest of the game, our boys are still in the running.”
Ever since our humble beginnings, mankind had always sought out ways of entertainment to pass the time when not busy just trying to stay alive. Once we honed our survival skills to the point of having additional free time, the pursuit of more pleasurable enjoyments expanded beyond the boundaries of this world, limited only by our wonderfully fantastical, never-ending imaginations. From cave paintings to woodcarvings to sculptured mountain ranges, we left our mark upon the land to make sure whoever came after us would know we were once here. Occupying our minds with diverting amusements and profound thoughts, we found gentle distractions and joyful enlightenment in artistic creations, musical masterpieces, and theatrical performances. We created memorably endearing characters with a universal appeal to make us laugh or cry, but most of all to feel some eternal bond linking our lives together, showing how all the world really was just a stage.
One of mankind’s greatest pleasures had always been his love of the game. Dreams of athletic glory revealed the competitive nature of the human race—clearly defined in our namesake—and spoken out in a universal language heard around the world with the founding of the Olympic Games. By praising thrilling victories and feeling sympathy for agonizing defeats, human beings exhibited their love of a winner, while showing pity for the shunned loser. Although many people were content to live vicariously through the athletic achievements of others, there were those who strived to meet the challenge of overcoming the many obstacles in their way, to skillfully display great feats of strength, and one day demonstrate they too had the heart of a champion.
Soon, an idol worship of sports stars led to children emulating their role models, whether in competition or through their extravagant lifestyles. With egos being built up from the connivances of unctuous agents and an entourage of sycophants telling them; ‘you’re the best, baby, you deserve this, don’t let anyone hold you back’, it wasn’t long before some started believing their own press. Overtime, the purity of the game—the fair competition between two opposing forces trying to achieve the highest goal through proven, superior skilled effort—was stained with an avarice of greed inflicting a cancer on whatever sport it touched
While there were many dedicated, hardworking, well-trained, and morally disciplined athletes for young ones to idolize, the fame and fortune that came along with stardom could blind some players into taking a shortcut to glory. A malady spread through the minds of would-be stars looking to gain an extra edge, pumping up their bodies with steroids and other addictive substances, which in the end did more harm than good. Soon, health issues arose with diseases infecting the brain along with the body, leading to domestic social abuses, gun charges, and gambling fixes becoming regular stories on ESPN news.
Born from the same pure spirit of mom and apple pie, America’s favorite pastime was rooted in the homegrown tradition of baseball. Supported by a loyal, but fickle, fan base, it was a game almost anyone could play—once social conventions finally got around to permitting it—and something the whole family could enjoy, whether participating, watching in the stands, or from the comfort of your home. Teams could remain popular for years (as long as they kept winning) or forever feel the shame from becoming perennial losers, with their most dedicated fans cheering or jeering their efforts.
Many aspired to dreams of stardom, except now, only the most skilled players were able to make the cut, and those who fell by the wayside sometimes grew bitter as Michael’s father did. Truly gifted and talented athletes now had a level playing field on which to compete. They restored the game to its truest form through the elimination of drug-enhanced physiques and giant egos spoiling team moral with the mouths of some individuals writing checks their bodies couldn’t cash.
Leaving how they played game intact, all major league team sports (much like the country) went through a realignment accorded to a Territory’s geographical and demographic requirements. Market value no longer determined a team’s location with owners paying for the best talent and the biggest stadiums, while holding their lucrative franchise rights hostage over their city or State. They were willing to sell themselves to the highest bidder and sometimes shamefully slipped out of town in the dead of night, too embarrassed to face the hurt, betrayed looks of their once loyal fans.
In the fifty years since baseball became the first professional sport resurrected from the past—followed shortly by football, basketball, boxing, and many others—the comeback restored the game to its former glory. Old teams revived their fan bases, while others built new ones. There were some subtle changes made in the schedule; like greatly reducing the number of games in a season to sixty instead of one-hundred-sixty, only playing games on Fridays and Saturdays, and a trimmed down roster of teams from twenty-nine to twenty-six. The main objective behind the change was to make the game more accessible and easier for everyone to enjoy and follow, even from the comfort of your own backyard.
Set up in front of the Nevada Dodgers’ dugout, in what appeared to be extra special VIP seating, five men cheered on their team from lawn chairs circling around a patio table with an open beach umbrella sticking through the middle, providing some shady comfort for the backyard ballers. On the table next to William Betty—Jackie Roberts’ SBP mate—a small, cylindrical receptacle, about six inches long and three inches in diameter, set propped up on a tiny stand. It appeared to be a small stereo speaker, but was really a mini 3-D image projector. The clever device, invented by Bill Betty-techno wizard, empowered him to project the live ballgame on his backyard lawn, permitting the five young men the luxury of being able to enjoy the game on a quiet Saturday afternoon, with their better halves inside the house celebrating Kim Curtis’ bridal-baby shower combo.
Five plates on the patio table, one set by each of the men, were mostly empty of food, except for scraps and bones. After nine innings of baseball, the backyard fans took turns expressing their disappointment over their team’s missed opportunities to seal the deal, yet remai
ned grateful they still had a chance at victory.
“If it wasn’t for those two runs scored off of errors in the bottom of the seventh, this game would be over already,” Ray Erickson, Amanda’s husband, lamented upon previously failed efforts that would have ensured the win.
“Do not worry about it, Ray. We will keep those Cubbies out of the series. Then our boys are sure to go all the way.” Tim Curtis, Kim’s fiancé, projected a more positive outlook, demonstrating his loyalty went beyond wearing the team’s apparel and colors, proudly displayed on his blue and white baseball shirt and cap.
“Hey, I am just glad Bill, here, is such a techno genius. I would swear I am actually at the game with the best seats in the house,” Geoffrey Jackson, Bridget’s husband, complimented his host and his creation.
“Once I get an idea in my head I cannot think about anything else until I see it through,” Bill explained his mental process.
“That is my Willie boy, for ya. Always tinkering with his toys,” Jackie said coming out of the house for some second helpings from the fine choice of barbecued meats still cooking on the grill.
“I am just a big kid at heart, my dear,” Bill admitted looking over to Jackie walking back toward the house with a heaping plate of barbecued ribs, chicken, and burgers. “Wow, who is still hoofing down the barbecue, babe?”
“I’ll give you one guess,” Jackie said in a redundant manner.
The fifth seated man gazed back with a raised eyebrow. “I take it that is for my Hilary,” Ed Kelly—husband, father, and un-expected father of twins—asked.
“I swear, Ed. I think she is eating like this because those twins are going to be big, strapping boys. You probably have a couple of future Big-League sluggers in there.”
Ed smiled for the first time since Hilary told him the inconvenient news. “I guess there is a silver-lining behind every dark cloud.”
Jackie entered the house through the back patio’s sliding glass door, where four young women gathered inside around Kim Curtis in a traditional female bonding session. Kim was sitting in the middle of a black, imitation-leather sofa, showered with maternity apparel and baby gifts. Jackie walked over to Hilary sitting on a matching recliner and handed her the plate of food.
“Looks like the guys get extra innings, and we get second helpings. Well, Hilary does anyway.” Jackie informed them as Hilary chomped down on a chicken leg.
“I do not think I could eat another bite,” Amanda confessed to her satisfied appetite, while sitting on Kim’s right with Bridget taking position on her left.
“I really have to thank you all for the lovely gifts and wonderful time.” Kim expressed her gratitude for the kindness shown by her hostess and friends.
Jackie started gathering the mostly empty plates with only vegetables scraps and fruit peels leftover from off an oblong glass coffee table.
“No, please sit,” Jackie said as the girl’s natural instincts kicked in. “I am just going to put these in the sink. There is coffee and cake, if anyone is interested.”
“I might be able to fit in a tiny sliver of cake,” Amanda acknowledged her renewed appetite at the mention of something sweet.
“Me, too,” Hilary added while gnawing on a rib bone.
The young ladies all giggled a moment, temporarily distracting Hilary’s daughter from reaching up for the strings hanging from balloons floating around the room and bumping off the ceiling. Unsure of what everyone found so funny, she simply went back to her preoccupation with the balloons.
Jackie headed for the kitchen with the dishes, passing by Bridget’s newborn son sleeping in a playpen and Eve sitting off to the side on a rocking chair. Upon returning with a serving tray of coffee and cake, Jackie received more good housekeeping compliments.
“I love the home you and Bill picked out. It is just so….homey,” Bridget said.
“I just cannot get over these beautiful backyards and lawns. I love how they connect all the houses together, providing a wonderful open-grass field for the children to play on,” Kim added then inquired Eve’s opinion. “Don’t you think so, Eve?”
Sitting in passive contemplation, Eve’s inattentive mind snapped back to reality with some quick comments of implied cognizance. “Oh, yes, it is a lovely home, and I definitely agree about the connecting yards being a great feature, too.”
“Are you feeling okay, dear?” Amanda asked Eve. “You seem elsewhere today.”
“Oh, I’m fine.” Eve answered without much conviction. “Just thinking about Michael’s last call, is all.”
“Oh, you poor, dear, I almost forgot.” Jackie turned to Eve expressing words of sympathy. “First you delay your wedding so Michael can go on a very important trip, and now, on the day he is supposed to come home, you get an eleventh hour call saying he is going to be gone another week. It just isn’t fair.”
“I really don’t mind,” Eve replied. She really didn’t. But her reasons were not ones she would willingly explain. So, she decided to shift the blame to someone they would find hard to hold a grudge against because of his immense popularity. “Jacob….I mean Mr. Rose called explaining how he would not have asked, except he needed Michael out there to confirm the find. They have been friends a long time, and Mr. Rose values Michael’s opinion, which turned out to be right on target after he went out and proved the other guy’s info faulty, probably on some bold adventure.”
The girls listened intently, knowing what an important friend Eve’s fiancée had in Jacob Rose. Nowadays, celebrities did not have to worry about running away from sleazy paparazzi and rabid fans hounding their every move, sometimes right into an early grave as they did with Princess Diane. But famous people still drew awe from the Average Joe, whether personal friends or just adoring fans. Eve was more dolefully fixated on the phone conversation she had with Michael last night, then the celebrity of his famous friend. Something she would be most grateful for after her next phone conversation.
2
“Hello. Eve. I did it! I really did it. I found it.” Michael’s voice proudly exclaimed through the phone receiver with the heightened excitement of a child trying to tell a parent something really important when their attention was elsewhere.
“That is wonderful news, Michael. I am so proud of you,” Eve replied. She was proud of him, too, if not slightly confused by the recent turn of events. “But how did you find it? You sounded so dejected during our last call, saying Franklin could not tell his own butt from a hole in the ground. Although, I assumed you were only kidding about that.”
“I might have given in to a wee bit of hyperbole, but it is the general vicinity where he keeps his head.” Michael accented his statement with a humorous laugh, wanting to avoid giving details on the subject at hand, which seen in the present light, might not be too funny, even though it really was. “The thing is….um….life sort of has an ironic way of twisting things so something might not seem very funny at the time, but when clearly looked at in the light of a new day….” Feeling he was not making much headway with this approach, Michael tried another rational. “It was really more of an action, reaction kind of thing.”
“In other words, Franklin’s inept actions caused your capable reaction to do what, precariously go out on your own to undertake some dubious, covert mission in the middle of the night, or else I assume you would come right out and tell me how you discovered the old government’s hidden bio-lab. But that is not the real purpose for this call, is it? Because now that you went out and made the discovery, there has to be a reaction to your actions, which means you have to stay longer to explore it.”
Michael loved Eve’s perceptive nature to see things as they truly are, along with her innate ability to read between the lines.
“I am real sorry about this, honey. But we might be able to prove Jacob’s theory correct, and find the answer to one of the biggest unsolved mysteries from the past.”
“I know and understand, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed that I
won’t be waking up next to you in the morning. I will ask you for one favor, though. Promise me you will be careful, and don’t take any more unnecessary risks, like I am sure you did in finding the place.”
“It was a just little early morning swim that went smooth as silk, nothing too hairy.” he said in an attempt to ease her mind, ending by relaying what he thought would be comforting news. “Oh, Jacob’s clearing the extension with the SBP, so you won’t have to worry about them giving you any grief about not being pregnant and still a…you know what I mean.”
Eve was more concerned with what Jean and Max would report back from the FWF. Not being pregnant was one thing, but if they found out about her unsullied virtue, they might not understand why. But it was out of their hands now. So she did not feel too much pressure from without, only from within the inner workings of her own mind, partly wishing it was over, while taking comfort in the small sojourn offered.
3
The phone ringing in the small purse at Eve’s side brought her back from Friday night’s call and into a present day conversation after answering the call.
“Hello,” she said unsure why Jacob was calling her.
“Eve, I need to tell you something. Do not listen to the news.” Jacob told her with as much calm as he could muster. “I promise you, everything is going to be fine. You have my word of honor. I will find him.”
Not getting the last bit clearly, Eve had her attention diverted from the call by the sound of the serving tray crashing down on the outside patio deck. Jackie was heading out to see if the men wanted some coffee and cake when something caused her to drop the tray, which caught everyone’s attention, putting them on full alert, except Eve. Kim and Bridget jumped up and quickly ran over to see what happened, followed closely by Amanda and Hilary, whose maternal condition and motherly instincts delayed their course of action. Only Eve remained seated. An ominous hesitation of dread coursed through her body, inflicting a momentary paralysis as Jacob’s words started to penetrate her distracted mind.
After gathering at the patio door, the women were no longer concerned with the fallen tray or the broken teacups—other than Hilary holding back Kelly, who was also drawn toward the commotion coming from outside and growing louder. With the girls glancing back and forth at Eve in hushed voices, mixed in with Jacob’s frantic words about the news, the source of the disturbance became clear.
“Eve. Eve. Are you there? Eve. Don’t believe it. I swear to you, I am going to find him.” Still holding the phone to her ear, Jacob’s continued pleas were clearly audible, but heard only in a faraway, endless void somewhere in the back of her mind as her body involuntarily moved over to the patio door on a seemingly motionless conveyance of disheartened will. Parting before her like a Red Sea leading to a distinctly different path of enlightenment, the concerned friends moved aside letting Eve step out into the light. Barely missing a sharp ceramic shard on the ground, she gained an unwanted clarity of another stressful situation entering her life, which would demand an indeterminable resolve from her to remain strong in the face of unbearable burdens.
An urgent news bulletin interrupted the start of the baseball game’s extra innings as the players and fans alike in the actual stadium stopped to listen. The words: URGENT BREAKING NEWS, flashed in what appeared to be midair in the backyard 3-D location, followed by the title shot underneath, reading: JACOB ROSE’S TOP RESEARCHER MISSING AND PRESUMED DEAD FROM A TRAGIC FALL AFTER DISCOVERING OLD GOVERNMENT’S HIDDEN BIO-HAZARD LAB.
A stock footage shot of Jacob sitting behind the desk of his nightly show towered in full view of the backyard onlookers, followed by just a headshot of Michael.
At the sight of Michael’s disembodied head floating over the virtual baseball diamond, Eve fainted dead away to the ground before anyone could catch her. From her discarded phone, Jacob’s voice continued to call out her name.
“Eve. Eve.”
On the other end, Jacob realized his desperate attempt to spare Eve any unnecessary heartbreak failed miserably and knew who was to blame. Feeling the anger welling up inside him, dulling the pain of despair, Jacob found the need to vent his rage on the person he felt most responsible for this added turmoil. It was an extraneous mental reaction to preserve hope of survival in his mind, knowing he had no way to locate Michael, still clutching his torn off wristband tracker tightly in his hand.
4
Racing back to the base camp in a speedboat driven by GP Sally, the spray of water splashing up on his face from their hurried pace barely registered to Jacob. He could not remember how long he lay down there wondering how this could have happened before hearing GP Sally calling out to him.
“Mr. Rose. Mr. Rose. Are you okay?”
At first, Jacob wasn’t sure where the voice came from, almost fooling himself into believing it was Michael’s, although somewhat confused about the misplaced concern for his well-being and not the other way around. Sensing the presence of someone behind him, reality set in as Jacob got up on his knees, still holding Michael’s lost tracker. Without looking back, he started giving commands.
“Harvey, we have to find him. We have to get some lights down here right away, and any other equipment we might need for a search and rescue operation. Do you understand me, Harvey? I am not giving up on him.”
Without the benefit of an explanation, GP Sally easily determined what happened to Michael and went right to work prioritizing the safety of his remaining charge.
“All right, Mr. Rose, I will see to it everything you say gets done. First, we need to get you up to the surface. You will be in a better position to oversee the rescue operation from there.”
Hesitating a moment before getting to his feet, Jacob took a few steps forward so he could gaze into the abyss, wondering about the possibility of it looking back up at him. GP Sally put a guiding hand on his shoulder after noticing Michael’s torn off wristband tracker in Jacob’s hand, giving him a slight scare he might jump in after his missing friend. Jacob’s mind was far away from any thoughts of meaningless, sentimental gestures of great personal sacrifice. Lamenting more on his lack of a quicker reaction time, or if made from a sturdier fabric, would the wristband have held a few seconds longer so he might have been able to reach his friend in time.
“Come on, Jacob, there is nothing you can do for him down here. I will call ahead to let them know what has happened and what needs to be done. Once we get topside, you will see things more clearly.”
Jacob reluctantly followed GP Sally’s lead as his mind raced through the possible permutations needed to mount a rescue operation of this magnitude. Oblivious to the call Harvey was in the process of making, it turned out to be the one thing he should have given some more thought. Jacob would soon come to realize if only he bothered to consider the consequences of Harvey’s call, he could have prevented the unforeseen and needless discomfort it caused someone else.
It was not until after reaching the surface he became aware of the series of events that had transpired. An instant red alert went off in Jacob’s mind, expecting to see Franklin up on the loading platform, but quickly deduced with astute accuracy what he must be doing.
“Where is Franklin?” Jacob asked a dockworker, even though he already knew the answer.
“He hopped into a speedboat after getting a call and took off out of here in one big hurry,” the worker explained as Jacob got into a speedboat with GP Sally and headed for the base camp boat dock at a hurried pace.
Jacob ran up the boat dock ramp leading to the cliffside-mansion base camp, with GP Sally trailing at a removed distance from having to tie off the boat. He rushed into the mansion calling out for anyone in earshot.
“Hold the last story. Stop any news story that just came in.” Jacob barked at a couple of nervously confused technicians after reaching the media room office.
“I am sorry, Mr. Rose, but it is too late. Jim is going out live as we speak,” a scared, young blonde girl informed him.
“What is the
headline?”
“Huh? Didn’t you approve it? We received the story under the impression it came directly from you. That is why we put a rush job on it,” the young-blonde said.
Jacob was already calling Eve’s number. “Who said I approved it?”
“Franklin Harriet gave me the title shot word for word as if it came directly from you. Were we wrong to listen to him, Mr. Rose?” the young-blonde asked for forgiveness, except Jacob was no longer listening as Eve picked up.
5
Jacob hung up his phone after losing the connection with—he could only assume must be—a very distraught Eve. Somberly bowing his head, Jacob tried to focus his attention on what he needed to do, instead of the infuriating wrath of seething anger burning inside him, ready to explode from any igniting spark. If not for the sound of Franklin’s voice lighting the fuse by callously boasting about being on top of a big story, he might have been able to subdue his inner beast.
“You know, Bill, it just goes to show you the upshot of being in the right place at the right time. I did not want to waste any time on indecision, so I came right to you the minute I got the call,” Franklin said strutting around like a proud peacock. “If you look hard enough, you can always find the good in any bad situation.”
Lifting his head, Jacob fixated a cold, hard stared on Franklin. Overcome with an outer body experience, his physical form moved forward as his mind remained locked in place. Franklin was unaware of the hostile presence approaching, until the sudden and shocking realization that someone’s hand was gripping tightly around his throat. His insensitive, smirking grin quickly disappeared, wiping away his smug smile and replacing it with wide open, terrified eyes. After securing a firm hold on his throat, Jacob pulled Franklin away from the office doorway he stood by, and slammed him hard against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway.
“Jacob. What are you doing? Let him go,” Bill, the on-site representative of the network, cried out in a panicked voice, alerting everyone in the building.
Showing a total disregard for Bill’s words and presence, Jacob remained focused on Franklin. “Listen to me, you resentful little man. You are nothing but an envious, incompetent fool, and if you caused someone very dear to me any unnecessary pain, I will see to it the next dig you go on will be searching your backyard for your dog’s lost bone.”
“Jacob. What is going on, here? Why are you so upset with Franklin?” Bill continued pleading with Jacob, who started to become cognizant of his surroundings, and the presence of others gathering around, which now included GP Sally.
“What was it, Franklin? You just couldn’t stand the fact Michael proved your theory wrong. So the first chance you get, you try to gain favor from his misfortune. Are you that petty?”
Loosening his grip on Franklin’s throat, Jacob did not give him a chance to reply before demanding further explanation, still mentally holding Franklin in the clutches of fear.
“Where do you get off approving a breaking news story in my name?”
“You did what?” It was Bill’s turn to be upset with Franklin.
At the sound of someone else’s anger directed toward Franklin, Jacob became aware of his fully viewed violent actions. Releasing Franklin with a held breath keeping in his fury, he took a few steps back.
Gasping for air, Franklin eventually managed to speak on his own behalf. “I thought it was an important story that needed to be reported right away.”
“And if you knew anything about reporting the news, you would know your first priority is to follow protocol by notifying the next of kin before releasing any story, and only after confirming the facts. You did neither”
“But I did notify the next of kin,” Franklin said. “Michael’s father is his only living relative, who happens to work as the shuttle driver for the Chicago Cubs, and they are going to pay him a special tribute before resuming play.”
“Michael has not spoken with his father in years. They have not had any family contact since his mother died. But he has fallen in love with his SBP mate as her with him. And I do not care what anyone says, he is not dead, and we are going to find him.”
“Mr. Rose, I am sorry about all this,” Bill said, buying cover for a network deeply indebted to Jacob. “I thought he was acting on your orders.”
“Don’t worry, Bill. I do not blame you. But right now, I want everyone to give me the room. I need to make a private call.”
As everyone started to leave, Jacob imparted one final order. “Oh, Franklin, one last thing, you’re fired. I never want to see you or your name connected in any way, shape, or form to any project I am ever involved with again. You can pack up your things and leave now. I want you out of here by nightfall. Are we clear?”
“Yes, Mr. Rose. I am truly sorry for any trouble I might have caused.” Franklin said slowly walking out of the house with eyes down.
Retrieving his phone from his pocket, Jacob took a deep breath before selecting the first preprogrammed number for what he felt would be the most important call of his life. He did not know whether or not the guilt of forcing Michael to go on the trip was motivating him to go to any extreme to find his friend alive and well, or if he really did believe it to be true. It did not matter, either way. He had to do it.
“Hello, Jacob,” the strong, controlled, even voice of the GAC came through the receiver in a thoughtful, sympathetic tone. He never used the video mode. “I have been apprised of the situation. I have also been updated on everything that has happened since then, including you firing Franklin Harriet.”
Almost before Jacob could form the thought in his head of wondering how the GAC could possibly know so much, so fast, the obvious, yet still vague, answer soon followed. “I am well informed. As to Franklin, it is your crew, and you can hire and fire whomever you want. With consideration for your desperate rescue attempt—and make no mistake or delude yourself further about the odds of this having a happy outcome—I will give you everything you need to pull it off, but there will be an equal Quid Pro Quo on this one.”
“Anything. Name it and it is done.”
6
On the other end of the phone, the GAC knew the answer before given. Hanging up after explaining to Jacob the first and most immediate thing he needed to do, he left him with the knowledge the real cost would come some other day.
“Why do you always grant him so much favor? Sometimes I think you like him better than your own son.” Atera, the wife of the GAC, asked.
“Hmm, my son,” the GAC replied in a dubious manner, shifting his gaze out the window and down into their backyard where his fifteen year old son, Alexander Cain VI, rolled around on the ground with his two best friends, a couple of Cocker Spaniels.
The wise, old eyes, which seemed to see things clearly from a hundred years ago, were in this life only forty-five, but the weight of accumulated knowledge overtime made the GAC appear twenty years older. Moving from the window and over to his wife, he reached out with both hands, taking one of hers in each of his, and looked deeply into her eyes. “You know why.”
Atera was only forty-four, and even though she appeared to be in her early sixties, she managed to retain much of her beauty, making it easier to conceal the apparently unnatural advancement of time. Disappointed by her husband’s obscure reply, she pulled away from his hands and walked over to the same window he looked out.
“I am going to find a way to fix this. Your son will grow up to be a great man just like his father, and especially his father before him. There is nothing I cannot fix. You will see. Your son is going to live for a hundred years.”
“Your passion is commendable. Regrettably, we all have our limitations, some made more clearly every day. No, my dear, I think the future lies elsewhere. You know, the one thing you have in common with Jacob, you both have an unflappable confidence when faced with against all odds situations, no matter the cost.”
“By any means necessary,” Atera said under her breath, spoken loud enough to give strength
to her convictions as the GAC walked out of the room and hearing.
7
By any means necessary was the similar thought running through Jacob’s head, proving the GAC nearly psychic. Only driven by a different motivating force, Jacob had a distinct moral-fortitude urging him forward against all odds. Almost equivalent to Atera’s convictions, he was willing to do just about anything, finding himself back in the room where he laid on the floor reaching out for his fallen friend, only a few hours ago.
Much had changed down there in the interim. Bright lights illuminated every kook and cranny a shadow could hide. Camera equipment formed a U-shape ten feet back from around the hole in the floor Michael fell through, revealing the root cause behind his unexpected departure. Seen in the light, a private elevator shaft was visible once they cleared away the debris. Originally designed with a walk-in closet fascia, the elevator’s passenger car remained intact, but inoperable. Stuck in place, a unique feature revealed a hidden trapdoor in the elevator floor. The odd exit suffered from the same years of decay the rest of the city endured. Barely attached by broken hinges, the trapdoor had flopped down and was loosely hanging. A busted latch meant to hold it shut, more than likely, gave way when Michael stepped on it.
Along with the lights and equipment, there were over a dozen people milling about doing certain tasks germane to their purpose for being there. Jacob felt a gradual claustrophobia starting to form in his mind. Now joined by a camera crew to record the rescue attempt, a few technicians to operate the electronic equipment, some clean-up workers, construction riggers, Bill—the network representative, GP Sally, and two newcomers on the scene by special order of the GAC.
In order to get the resources needed, Jacob had to adhere to two conditions before any rescue attempt, along with the favor to come at a later date. Under the first condition, the GAC told Jacob, “I am sending along a couple of HOUSE guests to keep you company.” But he knew their real prime directive was preventing him from taking any risks. Something the second condition handily accomplished in forcing him to remain out of harm’s way by having him broadcast the rescue attempt on live TV.
HOUSE—Hostile Operations Unit & Security Experts were an elite military unit, a modern day combination of Army Rangers, Navy Seals, and Special Forces, the best of the best. The old covert unit was the only division of the American Armed Forces still in existence, hidden in a top-secret section of the DOS. Created after WWII by the U.S. Government, the military used covert groups, like HOUSE, to extract Nazi scientists out of Germany. Then kept them hidden from the public in a top secret, underground military base somewhere in the Nevada dessert, where they could continue doing their work for our country. They fabricated a cover story to occupy the curious minded with something else to focus on, preventing anyone from ever knowing the truth. Even at the present time, very few knew the real work done down there.
The people already had a natural paranoia of the unknown. Orson Welles fooled some of them into believing an actual alien invasion was taking place in 1938, with his infamous radio broadcast of H.G. Wells’ War of the Worlds. It set the stage to use the Roswell landing hoax as a further ploy to convince conspiracy theorists the government was hiding something out in the dessert on a mysterious military base, known only as Area 51. Since people were naturally suspicious of those in power and after the frightening paranoia of the Communist Red Scare during the Cold War, the logic of using a lie to hide and even bigger lie came as a natural solution and eventually standard practice, so much so, nobody ever knew the real truth about anything, except those closest to it.
Jacob’s two HOUSE-guests, Kara Ross and Aidan May, were setting up their gear. Kara was a twenty-five year old, black-haired beauty with the petite figure of a world-class gymnast. She wore a black, skintight bodysuit, which accented every curve of her body as she stretched out and limbered up. Her partner was also twenty-five with dark hair, but that was where the resemblance ended. A big man with a body builder’s physique, he was just finishing rigging an electronic hoist and pulley system, securing it to a winch bolted onto the floor with a concrete nail-gun. Once ready to go, Kara put on the video glasses Jacob wore and a bicycle-type helmet with a light attached to it. After confirming a video connection with the computer tech, she proceeded to strap on the harness used to lower her down through the elevator floor as some workmen finished removing the broken trapdoor.
Standing front and center of the elevator as Aidan hooked Kara up to the electronic hoist, Jacob did a sound check, while shooing away a woman trying to apply on-camera cover make-up on his face. “Test, testing, one, two, three, are you reading me?”
A sound tech simply gave him the thumbs up sign.
“Okay if everybody is ready, we will go live in one, two,” Jacob directed the cameraman with raised fingers matching his count, except for the silent third finger to signify action.
“Hello, this is Jacob Rose with a Special Live Report. I want to start by first saying this is not business as usual, this story is personal. I also want to send out my deepest apologies to Eve Adams for any unnecessary heartache an erroneous, earlier report might have caused you. I promise you, Eve, we will get him back.” Jacob paused after making his personal comment before addressing his home audience.
“You see, Michael is not only the best researcher in the business, he is also my best friend and I feel responsible…No, wait. I am responsible for him being here. And while this may be of little comfort, after fruitlessly searching the wrong site based on false research, Michael took it upon himself to go out and find the old government’s hidden biohazard lab.”
In the background, Kara held onto Aidan’s strong shoulders as he used a remote control to retract the cord attached to the base bar she stood on. It lifted her up by the feet as Aidan gently guided her back to the elevator until she hung upside down over the trapdoor.
“We discovered a significant sign of hope after clearing away the debris. This private elevator, once made to look like a normal walk-in closet, concealed a trapdoor in the floor my good friend fell through when first exploring the site. Although we are positive this facility is the secret lab, we cannot confirm at this time whether or not this is where Alan Vanderbrock VI, the deluded Environmental Biologist, created the virus that killed off half the world’s population by 2025. Though, there are some telling signs indicating he was here at one time.”
Jacob walked over to where Kara was hanging upside down over the elevator ready to descend headfirst into the shaft as he pointed out her destination.
“In order to allow easier access for Kara, our lovely rescue specialist, we removed the broken trapdoor in the elevator floor.”
Kara smiled and waved at the camera before turning on her helmet light. She had a slight Asian appearance in her deep, dark eyes to go along with her straight, black hair and small, slender frame.
Tentatively looking down the shaft, Jacob commented on some interesting facts about the elevator.
“Other than the oddly placed trapdoor, there are many strange things afoot down here. For example, this passageway descends over twenty feet beyond where the bottom of the shaft should end, since there are no floors below it. So why is it there and where does it lead? And while the rest of the facility appears to have gone through some sort of orderly evacuation, this labs looks like a war zone hit it. Everything in here has been smashed and broken, including the busted in lab door.” Jacob walked around the room directing the cameraman where to focus, getting a close-up shot of the heavily damaged door.
Heading back to the elevator, Jacob checked in with Kara. “Are you ready to go, Kara?”
Kara gave an upside down thumbs up as Aidan handed her the remote control.
“All right, then,” Jacob said, motioning over to the computer monitor set up behind him. “We are going to join Kara on her journey by following along on this computer screen.”
Jacob nodded to Kara, who pressed the button on the remote control and started lowering hersel
f down the shaft. Once out of view, Jacob shifted focus to the monitor, while giving commentary.
The video images came in fuzzy before clearing up into a dark tunnel vision view.
“With this digital counter, we can see how deep the shaft goes. So far, Kara has gone about six feet.” Jacob informed the viewers at home. “We are now reaching eight feet down. So let’s check in with Kara for an on the spot report. Kara, can you give us your perspective of things?”
Descending headfirst down an unknown shaft might cause the average person’s pulse to race or their blood pressure to rise, but for someone with Kara’s nerves of steel, her heart rate barely registered above normal. The shaft’s rough clay walls appeared dug out by hand. Jacob’s words came through her helmet receiver, but she could not offer a different outlook other than the one they were getting.
“If you are seeing what I am, there is nothing but darkness beyond the reach of my headlamp’s beam.” Kara replied in a regretful manner.
Approaching a depth of fifteen feet, Kara started to make something out another five feet down, taking her by surprise. “Hey, are you getting this up there?”
Up on top, looking at the computer screen with squinting eyes, hoping for a clearer picture, the fuzzy image also caught Jacob by surprise. “Is that the bottom of the shaft?”
A few feet from some sort of strange surface, Kara performed an acrobatic aerial maneuver within the confines of the tight space only someone with her diminutive stature would be capable of pulling off. She flipped herself around into an upright position a few inches from the unfamiliar ground. Looking down at the unknown surface, one thing became instantly clear. Michael was not there.
“Mr. Ross, I cannot explain this. There appears to be some kind of artificial surface.”
Jacob could not find his voice at first, left in a state of confusion over the whereabouts of his missing friend. “I don’t get it. Where is Michael?”
Kara scanned the entire area in a clockwise motion, shining her light on every inch of space, getting a complete reconnaissance of the area. Spotting a foreign object in the shadows, Kara focused her light on it, illuminating Michael’s hat. “I got something here. Can you see it up there?”
“That is Michael’s hat.” Jacob said in an excited utterance, startling Kara a second. “He had it on when he fell, but where is he?”
Kara lowered herself down enough to place her feet on the mysterious surface in order retrieve the hat for Jacob. But the ground beneath her folded in and opened up a space in the center the moment she placed her weight on it. Diverted by the unexpected change, Kara just missed catching the hat before it slid through the open space.
“Wow, what the….” Kara’s startled voice rose up as she held onto her support cable for balance. “I think I know where he went.”
The Stetson tumbled down a long, sliding tunnel similar to a laundry chute, until finally falling out a vent on a concrete wall. It fluttered down several feet and rolled down a large sand pile before coming to a rest against a motionless hand.
Bright Night Past Yesterday: Book One of Forever Tomorrow, Volume One of The Book of Tomorrows Page 7
