Firmly gripping my arm, he pushed me along in front of him. Right toward Julie. She still watched the door where Kincaid disappeared.
“How’s it look?” the goon asked.
“Doable,” she said, “We’ll have to wait until dark, though.”
She turned, a sour look on her face. Flicked her gaze up and down.
“You’re a lot of trouble, you know that?” she said, “You’re also stupid. I spotted you the second you walked in the hanger.”
It made me mad. I quickly tamped the anger down.
“Love you too, sweetie,” I said, “And all I wanted was a cheeseburger.”
“How did you get on the base?” she asked, “And why did you come back at all?”
“Why are you here?” I asked, “Are you some kind of terrorist?”
The big goon pulled at my arm. “We need to move before we get conspicuous,” he said.
Julie nodded, “We’ll take him back to the trailer for now,” she said.
I resisted. Planted my feet firmly on the heat radiating concrete.
“What if I don’t want to go?” I said, “What if I start screaming?”
The hard object against my spine pressed harder.
“Then this pistol will blow a giant hole in you,” the goon said.
“You heard the general. I’m dangerous. I’m a walking atomic bomb. You shouldn’t upset me,” I said.
Julie bit her lip. How much did she know about what happened to me?
“You also heard that you could blow up half the state,” Julie said. Her expression softened. Her tone suddenly became nice. Reasonable. “I know you don’t want to kill all those people. Now come with us and I’ll try to explain what we’re doing, okay?”
I wanted to believe there was a good reason for what she was doing. I didn’t want to believe I was being used.
Yes, I was still that stupid.
“Okay,” I said, “But beefcake here better get that gun out of my back. Or I might get mad.”
Julie made a gesture to the goon and the pressure on my spine went away. I pulled my arm out of his grip and gave him a glare. Just because. Julie brushed past us.
“Come on, before we get spotted,” she said.
She headed off, away from the windowless hanger. Stupid me, I followed.
Twenty-Two
The goon dragged me into another hanger. This one seemed to be used for storage. Dusty equipment and vehicles filled the cavernous space. The still air inside was stiflingly hot and had a musty, unused smell to it.
Julie led us to a large semi-truck trailer outfitted as a mobile office. It smelled like a cat had been living in it.
A cat who also drank copious amounts of coffee.
Julie sat behind a large, oak desk and the goon and I sat on a cracked leather couch. The couch was overstuffed and comfortable. Judging from the ornate, expensive looking trimmings, it had been some general’s field office. Where he could command in comfort and style at taxpayer expense.
“So, how about some explanations?” I asked, “And how about you start with who you really are.”
Julie frowned and drummed her delicate fingers on the desktop. I had an odd sense of deja vu, but I couldn’t place where it came from. She swiveled the chair around and bent over to something on the floor. I tensed.
“That’s not important,” she said.
“It’s important to me. We’ve been together for a couple years. We were supposed to get married next spring. I thought you loved me,” I said.
There was the sound of refrigerator door closing. I heard the hiss of a pop can. She swiveled around and stuck a can of Coke at the edge of the desk near me. She popped open another one and set it near the goon. She reached down again and pulled up a familiar green thermos. She unscrewed the top. An aroma of coffee drifted out.
Of course, Julie had some coffee handy.
I was so thirsty I grabbed the can and chugged it down. Coke never tasted so good.
Julie poured some coffee into the plastic cup that screwed to the top of the thermos. She took a sip and leaned back in the leather executive chair. Her fingers drummed on the desk.
“Listen, we really don’t have time to get into this,” she said, “There’s more at stake here than just you.”
I wasn’t ready to let it go. The anger simmered just below the surface. I wanted to scream at her. Instead, I made myself be calm. As calm as I was able to be, anyway.
“Do you love me?” I asked.
She looked away. “There are things done in times of war. You understand that,” she said, “It’s nothing personal. It’s for the good of the winning side, okay?”
I sat back, stunned. Like she’d punched me in the gut. I didn’t have enough breath to be angry.
It’s nothing personal.
I blinked back tears. “So it was all a lie? Everything we had?”
“Get over it cupcake,” the goon said, “It’s war. Us against them. You want to be on the losing side, or the winning side?”
I stood up. “I can’t believe this. You used me.”
I started to leave. Julie called out to me.
“I thought you wanted answers?” she asked, “Don’t you want to know why?”
I paused, hand on the door. Damn her, I did want to know why. Somehow I doubted the why would make up for the hurt, though.
I realized if I walked away, left her behind…I’d always wonder.
I put my hand down. “Okay, tell me why,” I said.
She stopped drumming her fingers and folded her delicate hands on the top of the desk. She leaned forward, and it hit me where I’d seen that exact same gesture before.
"Do you really think the aliens, the Stickmen and the Blinkys are benevolent?" she asked, "They won't tell us a damned thing. They won't let us see their technology, they won't tell us how many other races are out there, or how long they've been traveling between the stars. Nothing. They keep us in the dark about everything."
I didn’t pay much attention to what she was saying. It was the same old xenophobe crap. There was a certain segment of the population who were always angry about something. The aliens were just the latest thing that got them frothing.
I was too busy being stunned by what I’d just realized about Julie. I studied her face, seeing the family resemblance now in the planes of her cheeks, the set of her eyes. The delicate hands.
“General Mattany is your father, isn’t he?” I asked.
She stopped talking. Her mouth hung open. Her face first went white, then bright red. She clamped her jaws shut with a clack. For nearly a minute she glared daggers at me.
“It’s not important who my father is,” she said at last, “What’s important is the future of the human race.”
“You sound more like your father that you think,” I said, “He’s a xenophobe, too.”
“I am not a xenophobe!” she said, “And I do not sound like him!”
“Is this some way of getting back at him for not paying attention to you when you were growing up or something?” I asked.
“That’s not it at all!” she shouted.
“What are you trying to accomplish here?” I asked, “That professor guy slipped something into my burger. It sounded like he was trying to make a point about something.”
The color stayed in her cheeks. The goon was kicked back, an amused look on his face.
“I told you we shouldn’t have used this guy,” he said.
“Shut up,” Julie said. To me or the goon or both, I wasn’t sure.
“Why did he do this to me?” I asked, “What point was he trying to make?”
Julie’s glare would have turned me to charcoal if she had superpowers.
“He did it to prove Kincaid is an idiot,” she said, “Kincaid thinks he’s going to leapfrog the alien’s technology. He and General Mattany think they have something that will make the aliens afraid of us. Instead of the other way around.”
I moved back to the leather couch and sat at the ed
ge of it. “What? What do they think they have? Dr. Kincaid said his research is for a new form of energy. One that will be clean and cheap to produce.”
Julie shook her head. “You’re an idiot. What scientist ever got money from the military to make batteries?” she said, “The military gives you money if you come up with a way to kill people more efficiently.”
I had to admit, that did make sense. But I didn’t like the thought of my work supporting weapons technology. I had actually made that clear when I went to work for Dr. Kincaid. I told him I didn’t want to work for any place that was doing weapons research. Did the jerk lie to me?
Sigh. I know, stupid question.
I liked to think I’m an optimist. That I see the better side of people. Which doesn’t work out so well when people keep stabbing me in the back.
Enough to make me re-evaluate my worldview.
“So why did your professor guy spike my burger? And what did he spike it with?” I asked, “Was it your intention to turn me into a human bomb?”
Julie looked away and the goon snickered. My heart skipped a beat and I had to take deep breaths to keep my anger down.
“You did, didn’t you?” I suddenly saw the plot. “You wanted to turn me into a bomb. It was supposed to go off when I got to the labs at Holloman, wasn’t it?”
“No,” the goon said, “It was supposed to go off once they took you to Area 53.”
“Area 53?”
“This place,” Julie said, “This base is known as Area 53, unofficially. Kind of a joke.”
I flopped back onto the couch, hands on my head. “Why?”
“We needed to send a message,” Julie said, “Kincaid’s research was barking up the wrong tree. It was never going to be what he thought it was.”
“So who are you guys supposed to represent?” I asked.
Julie and the goon exchanged glances. I tried not to get angry–don’t blow up half the state, dude. It wasn’t easy. The trailer, luxurious as it was, was hot. The air was stale. Sweat dripped down my cheeks. The can of Coke I’d poured down my throat was a sickly sweet aftertaste in my mouth.
“I can’t tell you,” Julie said, “Let’s just say we’re an organization dedicated to equalizing relations with the aliens.”
“Why? They’re centuries ahead of us in technology,” I said, “They’re probably protecting us. We’re not exactly a peace loving race.”
“Damn right we’re not,” the goon said, “And neither are they. They have enough weapons to burn this planet to a crisp.”
“And they haven’t,” I said, “They’re so far advanced, they could have done it at any time. They didn’t even have to announce themselves. They could have sent a bomb here by remote control.”
“Have you ever thought about what they want?” Julie asked.
I shrugged. “They want what most explorers want. They want to learn things and they want to open up trade routes. They’re looking to see if we have anything of value to trade for. If we do then they’ll start offering us things.”
“Sure, beads and trinkets,” the goon said, “While we give them the keys to the castle.”
“Or maybe they’re fattening us up,” Julie said.
“What?”
“You heard me. There are other things explorers want,” she said, “History is littered with examples. Advanced civilization finds backward one. Steals everything of value, then eats or enslaves the survivors.”
“I would hope civilizations that have mastered interstellar flight have grown beyond that sort of thing,” I said.
“You’re too naive,” the goon said.
I shook my head and got to my feet. This wasn’t going anywhere. A sudden lightheaded feeling took hold of me. I grabbed the edge of the couch to steady myself.
“There are two things I want to know,” I said. “One: what did your professor put in my burger, and two: why are you still here?”
“Nite nite, cupcake,” the goon said.
The room spun. I fell back on the couch, my face pressed up against the cracked leather. Everything went black.
Twenty-Three
It was possibly the worst headache of my life. No, no, definitely the worst.
Worse than the time I did tequila shooters and rum punch my freshman year of college.
I moved and it felt like an egg of molten lead rolled around inside my skull.
I groaned. I moaned. I whimpered as black sparks flashed behind my eyes. My eyeballs felt like sandpaper marbles as I lifted my eyelids.
I was someplace dark. Or I was blind. I knew I wasn't dead because dead people didn't puke. Which was what I rolled over and did next. That's when I realized my hands were tied in front of me with what felt like sturdy rope. It only took a moment longer to figure out my feet had gotten the same treatment.
My abused brain started to tick over. Tried to make sense of what happened. I threw a line back to my last memory and reeled it in. I caught an image of me getting dizzy and collapsing on a couch. I rolled the memory back a ways through the conversation with Julie and the goon. I stopped when I came to the pop can hissing open.
Crap. That, that…bitch slipped something into it.
People really needed to stop slipping things into my food and/or beverages.
Now that I had what happened figured out, I moved on to the next question. Where the heck was I?
Sight wasn’t going to be any help. Smell wasn’t either. The place smelled like puke, with a hint of Coca Cola. That left hearing and touch. I lay still and listened. Tried to hear something. Anything. All I heard was my blood pounding in my ears.
Touch it was, then.
I struggled up to a kneeling crouch. My head protested this much movement and sent a command to my stomach to evacuate all contents in protest.
After the dry heaves wracked my body, I sat still. Let my body get used to the upright position thing again. I reached out. Tried to touch something.
A door opened. Light flooded the room. A harsh invasion of photons to my raw optic nerves. Pain shot through my eyeballs.
“What the hell!” a familiar voice barked.
I rotated my head toward the voice. General Mattany stood in the doorway. Naked, except for a white towel wrapped around his waist. And a gun belt slung over his shoulder. He clutched another towel in his right hand.
He didn’t look happy to see me.
I glanced around the room. A narrow bed sat along one wall. An old desk with chipped and worn legs occupied the opposite wall. On the desktop was a framed photo of an unsmiling General Mattany standing beside a young woman in a purple cap and gown.
Julie, my former fiancé.
Who for some demented reason, drugged me and put me in her father's bedroom.
Twenty-Four
“For the last time, who put you there!” General Mattany shouted.
My sore butt was planted uncomfortably on a hard metal chair in a small, overheated room. My wrists and ankles were still bound with thick rope. My head hurt. Not so much from the hangover, though. One of the large marines carrying me into the room had accidentally slammed my head on the doorjamb.
After getting deposited on the chair, General Mattany had spent much of an hour speaking to me in a very loud voice. Which is also generally known as yelling, screaming and shouting.
My ears hurt almost to the point of bleeding. I feared I might have permanent hearing loss.
I stayed calm in the face of this abuse, though. Maybe the two burly marines with plasma rifles pressed against the sides of my head had a tranquilizing effect.
Or something.
“General, sir, I’ve told what I know,” I said, “Once I got back to the base and heard your stirring speech–good job by the way–I was captured by a woman and the man from Guydoros.”
Mattany leaned in. Put his face right up to mine. He smelled fresh and clean. Like he'd recently had a shower. He seemed to be an Old Spice kind of guy. It made me want to sneeze.
Thankfully he had taken t
ime to get into his crisp Space Corp blues before interrogating me. I’m not sure I would have been able to keep a straight face if it was just him in the towel.
“Who are they?” he asked, his voice low. His eyes narrowed in a look that could only be called menacing. With a dash of rage and an undercurrent of murder.
I swallowed. The general’s breath wasn’t so fresh. He’d eaten something with lots of garlic and onions recently. I tried to still the shivering in my body.
“I don’t know,” I said.
Why was I protecting Julie? She’d used me. And abused me.
It’s nothing personal.
I tamped down the anger that welled up. Angry was bad. Angry might make things go boom.
“You’re lying. You know them,” The general said, covering me in garlic onion breath, “I can see it in your face. Right this very second we’re turning this base upside down looking for your co-conspirators.”
I started to protest I wasn’t conspiring with anyone. If anything, everyone seemed to be conspiring against me.
Mattany grabbed my chin. Squeezed my jaw in a manner most painful.
“If you have any love for your country, son. If you have any iota of compassion for the human race, you will tell me the truth about these people.”
He had me. I closed my eyes. My shoulders slumped. Not that he was going to believe me. Who wants to believe his daughter is a violent xenophobe who wanted to blow up his precious secret military base?
I took a deep breath, ready to spill my guts.
The door slammed open. A thin, frantic looking man in Space Corp blues stood in the doorway.
"General! It's gone. And so is Dr. Kincaid!"
Twenty-Five
For an agonizing moment, no one in the small, sweaty hot room spoke. Or moved. For a moment I forgot about the ropes chaffing my wrists and ankles. And the two muscular marines holding plasma rifles to either side of my head. The thin, uniformed guy, who had just appeared in the doorway and delivered the bad news, stood still as a statue.
Quantum Cheeseburger Page 7