Season of the Witch

by David L. Golemon

  Sokol took an angry step forward toward the Grey who also took a step toward Sokol.

  “He’s dead you fool! Murdered if the reports from the committee are to be believed. Dead and buried!”

  The Grey seemed to go insane as it grabbed Sokol by his throat and lifted him. Vexilla smashed her hand into the alarm panel on the wall and a blaring siren started sounding through the out the rig. This didn’t deter Asmodius as he shook Sokol. The Grey was vigorously shaking his head, enough so Sokol felt the sickly strands of hair as it struck his face.

  The Grey stopped and brought Sokol close, his feet fighting for purchase on a floor he was being held four feet above. He saw the large mouth open and the crystal teeth. The threat was real and Sokol wondered if his long-range plan for getting what he wanted in ending the reign of lesser men would end here and now.

  “Not…dead!” The Grey shook Sokol two more times violently.

  “He’s dead! Shot and killed!”

  “Not dead. Never dead.” He threw Sokol into the wall just as security broke into the room.

  The Grey hissed and then started for the double sliding doors. He ruthlessly knocked the five security men clear of its path by just using a gesture of a swipe through the air, and left the lower section of the rig.

  “Go after him!” Sokol screamed at his men as Vexilla was the one this time assisting him to his feet.

  “Dmitri, we have to kill that goddamn thing. It’s insane! If the committee finds out how unstable it is, we could be their next target.”

  Sokol angrily threw off her supporting hands. I need him for our plan. “To hell with the committee! Did you see that power?” Sokol screamed and ran after his security ream before they killed the greatest asset in world history. “I was right all along!”

  Vexilla watched Sokol follow and she decided there and then that she would not be a part of this insanity. She scrambled and finally retrieved the phone from her shattered desk.

  The phone on the far end was picked up immediately.

  “This is the night officer, operating number please.”

  “Operator 569015. Inform the committee that the asset known as Warlock has been reevaluated and deemed unstable. Request instructions not go through Number Ten. Just me.”

  “Number One will be immediately informed.”

  Vexilla tossed the phone down to the deck and closed her eyes. She had just betrayed the man she loved and was glad of it. She didn’t fear his wrath or the wrath of the committee. She feared for her immortal soul over the being they were dealing with.

  * * *

  Sokol made his men lower their AK-47’s. He saw the Grey just standing on the helicopter platform staring out to sea. The aggressiveness had left the large creature as the rain seemed to sooth the beast. Lightning streaked across the dark sky as Sokol approached.

  “You do know that with out me, the committee will kill you?”

  The Grey turned with its bright yellow eyes blazing at Sokol. It lifted its hand and pointed north.

  “Not dead. It is danger to Asmodius.” The Grey smiled at Sokol and then poked him in the chest with a sharp, clear nail. “Danger to you. It knows I am here. His kind know all. This is why we enslaved them.” It hissed and then turned back to look at the distant horizon. As for Sokol, his face drained of color as he realized the Grey’s voice was coming from his own mind. “It is time you understand Asmodius. I can make anything come to pass in your desires. But there will be no more orders to follow. No more lock in room. Me, same as you.”

  “Partners?”

  “Asmodius does not…know this word.” The Grey turned and its large hand encircled Sokol’s smaller head. The creature closed its eyes. Sokol felt the power of the Grey as it entered his mind. He saw the Grey smile and nod as if he found what it was looking for. He released Sokol just before the guards reacted. The Russian ordered them to stay away. “Yessss, partners.”

  “What are you going to do?” Sokol asked as he joined the Grey at the railing.

  “Attack. Attack Matchstick...attack his friends…make dead all.”

  Sokol smiled for the first time since the strange disturbance had started.

  “That’s a start.”

  “Then Asmodius wants what it wants.”

  “What do you want?” Sokol asked, not liking the confident way the Grey turned away from him.

  “Revenge for my kind.”

  “The Greys? They locked you away.”

  The smile again, and this time Sokol felt the blood drain from his face.

  “Revenge for my kind. Not Grey,” it spit into the rain. “They lock my kind away for what we were.”

  “What were you?” Sokol asked apprehensively.

  The Grey only smiled and didn’t answer. It did however stretch out its large hand and then closed its eyes. Sokol saw that its concentration was focused north-west—toward Nevada, and the unsuspecting group of men and women searching for a lost friend.

  Chapter Five

  Lake Mead National Recreation

  Area, Ninety-Four Miles, East of Las Vegas

  Former United States Air Force Captain and complex security man, Henry Gonzalez was having a hard time sitting the large UH-60 Blackhawk down on the sand one hundred feet from the lake. Alice Hamilton, a pilot herself, didn’t envy the hardship the Captain was having with the high winds and lightning storm that circled the lake. He finally felt the wheels strike the sand and he immediately powered down. He angrily pulled his helmet off and tossed it to his crew chief who was near to vomiting.

  “I hope what you people are after was worth that!” he shouted over the powering down of the twin turbines of the Blackhawk. He looked at Will Mendenhall’s temporary replacement in security Pete Sanchez and shouted at him. “How do you allow them to talk you into disobeying the Directors orders?”

  Charlie Ellenshaw was about to say something about the importance of what they were after but was stopped by Sergeant Sanchez who was pulling site security for the mission. He just shook his head at Charlie stopping him from even trying to explain the power of Alice Hamilton over the entire Group.

  “Look Gonzales, if you receive radio communications from the complex, delay them with static.” Sanchez looked at Alice and winked.

  As Anya Korvesky opened the sliding door, they were immediately pelted by stinging sand and sideways rain

  “Where is the store?” Alice shouted into the wind.

  “About two hundred feet up that bluff,” Sergeant Sanchez said as he consulted his GPS system on his Group cell phone. He immediately placed the device into his pocket under the protective rain gear they had been issued. He had to smile at Alice who looked like an old-fashioned sea farer with her droopy rubber hat and knee-high boots.

  “I think you and Charlie should interview the store owner and Alice and I will start a grid search pattern and see if we can find anyone else out here camping if they saw anything strange,” Anya shouted while holding her rain hat in place.

  “Right,” Sanchez said. “Are you armed?” he asked the former Mossad Major.

  She just smirked at the Sergeant and he felt foolish for asking such a naïve question. As soon as Sanchez and Charlie moved off over the sand dune, Anya, Virginia, and Alice started moving toward the rough shoreline.

  “We would have a lot better visibility out here if this storm would hurry up and pass,” she said over her shoulder at Alice, who for her age wasn’t having as nearly a difficult time as Anya would have believed. Virginia Pollock on the other hand seemed to stumble in the sand every five feet or so. Both women were amazed at Alice and her durability, but when it came to finding Matchstick, they understood where her inner strength came from.

  “Look, a camping area,” Anya said pointing up another small rise.

  Alice and Virginia started to follow Anya toward what looked like a sparsely populated campground for trailers and motor homes. Lights inside were bright as campers waited out the storm in a far more comfortable sitting than the few tent
s closer to the shore.

  After forty-five minutes they had canvased the entirety of the camping area. They had not found a single witness to the night’s strange events at the bait and tackle shop other than harrowing tales of chain lightning and windblown camper damage. As they exited the last Winnebago, they were met by Sergeant Sanchez and a soaking wet Charlie Ellenshaw.

  “Any luck?” Sanchez asked, shouting into the wind as he tried to keep his face from being sand-pitted.

  “No, everyone’s cowering in the comfort of their homes on wheels.”

  “Yeah, I remember when you actually left the comforts of home, at home, when camping. I guess times have changed,” Charlie said as his rubber hat flew from his head. He started to go after it, but then decided not to as he was already miserably wet.

  Sanchez looked at his watch. “The Colonel’s team will be here soon. “I think we should wait in the Blackhawk until we get more boots on the ground.”

  “You’re probably right,” Anya said, and then was cut short by Charlie Ellenshaw tugging on her raincoat. He pointed down toward the water.

  Walking away from the gathered group and obviously unwilling to wait on Jack and his people, Alice Hamilton and Virginia Pollock were moving toward the windblown tents of the hardier campers.

  Sanchez shook his head. “The Colonel’s right, no one listens to anyone around here.”

  “Well, neither of them are armed, so I guess that makes the decision easy as to what we do.”

  Sanchez looked at the drowned rat named Charlie Ellenshaw and they moved off, following the stubborn women.

  The first three tents were empty. It seems the campers had decided to make a stand at Bullhead City instead of riding out the storm. Charlie and Sanchez checked out one other tent and came back with a shake of their heads.

  “Look, if I know Matchstick, he doesn’t like weather like this. I know he’s close, I can feel it,” Alice said, unwilling to call an end to their limited search.

  “The only one in the area left is that large tent down the shore. It’s dark. No lanterns or movement. I don’t think anyone’s home,” Sanchez said, hoping that would dissuade Alice from going there.

  “We don’t stop searching because of some damn rain, Sergeant. I know you didn’t learn that from Jack,” Alice said as she started to walk away through the sideways rain. The others followed.

  As Charlie passed Sanchez, he looked at him and said; “Ouch,” he smiled. “She still has a bite, don’t she?”

  “Now I know who probably trained the Colonel and Mister Everett,” Sanchez said, but started to follow anyway.

  Alice finally made it to the large yellow tent. The flaps were drawn and tied down. There was no light at all. Her hopes started to dwindle as she turned and saw the others waiting. She started toward the main tent flap. She scratched at the nylon fabric. Nothing.

  “No one’s home Alice,” Charlie said, cupping his hands over his mouth to be heard over the wind and the thunder.

  Alice started to turn away when she stopped and tilted her head. She reached out and untied the flap.

  “Oh, great, now we’re breaking and entering,” Sanchez said, not really joking.

  Alice slowly opened the tent flap and the wind immediately took the material and tore it from her hand. She heard the scream of a small child. She immediately regretted her actions. Whoever was in the tent was scared and whimpering.

  “I’m sorry, we were just checking to see if everything was alright. This storm is really bad.” Alice waited for some form of answer. “We’re looking for a friend who is lost out here. Where are your parents?” she asked as kindly as she could, but she knew her shouted words were anything but soothing.

  She was about to back away. Sanchez was right, they needed more manpower for a search of this size. “I’m sorry, we’ll look somewhere else.” She was about to turn away when an empty box hit her and bounced to the sand. The wind took it and it flew into the waiting group where Charlie Ellenshaw caught the piece of windblown trash. Charlie brushed the wet, stringy white hair from his face. He adjusted his glasses and examined the torn open box. He immediately ran and stopped Alice. He held out the box for her to see.

  Alice turned as white as Charlie’s hair.

  “Gino’s Pizza Rolls!” Charlie said as Alice turned hurriedly back to the tent. She slowly opened the flap. She swallowed as she took a tentative step inside the darkened area. Her eyes roamed over the inside. It was so dark her eyes failed to adjust as the sides of the tent bowed in and out from the force of the wind.

  “Matchstick?” she called.

  Nothing.

  “Its time to come home. Are you hurt?”

  Suddenly Alice’s heart froze as a scream reverberated inside the dark tent and she was grabbed around the thighs. She fell backward through the tent flap and into the driving rain where she fell onto her back.

  Anya, Sanchez, and Virginia were stunned. Charlie even had to step back momentarily as he thought Alice had cornered some kind of desert cat inside the tent and was now being attacked.

  They all ran toward the encounter fearing the same as Charlie.

  “Alice, Alice, Alice, Alice,” came the words over and over again.

  The group stopped in shock as they heard Alice Hamilton start to laugh. Charlie was the first one to see what it was that had attacked Alice. He started to laugh and cry at the same time.

  Mahjtic Tilly looked up from his position on Alice’s chest and screamed. He jumped five feet from Alice to Charlie. He flew onto Ellenshaw’s neck and squeezed as if he were trying to wring the breath out of his body. Matchstick was till wearing the small, specially made Complex jumpsuit the security team made for him and one he had been buried in. The silver captain’s bars bestowed on him by Will Mendenhall were still pinned to his collar.

  “Crazy Charlie, Crazy Charlie, Crazy Charlie!” Ellenshaw went down as the rain soaked both Matchstick and himself. He started laughing and he knew it may take days to stop after finding the friend they had come searching for.

  Virginia Pollock placed both hands over her mouth and started to cry. It was a deep, crushing heart cry as she watched the overly excited Matchstick.

  “Unbelievable,” Anya Korvesky said, amazed the little alien was actually alive. Most people in the Group was of the same conclusion as herself that Matchstick didn’t miraculously dig himself from his own grave. That it was outside forces that had stolen his body. As she watched she couldn’t help but join Virginia in her amazement.

  Everyone was still crying and laughing, slapping each other on the back when Matchstick stood up and started pulling on the arms of Charlie and Alice.

  “Home. Must go home…home. Alice, we go home, Charlie we go home. Must go now!”

  “Take it easy buddy,” Sanchez said as he bent over to calm Matchstick.

  “I’m afraid we can’t let you take him,” said a voice from behind them. “We thought the little guy ran off. But I guess he just went lookin’ for more food. That boy can eat some, let me tell ‘ya.”

  As they turned, they saw a boy of no more than sixteen years of age standing there and he had a shotgun leveled at the Group.

  “Now wait a minute,” Sanchez started to say when the first shotgun blast tore up the sand just mere inches from his boots.

  “Look, I don’t know who you are, but Matchstick is coming home with us. You’ll have to kill us all,” Alice said as she pushed by Charlie Ellenshaw to confront the teenager with the long black hair holding the shotgun on them.

  “Grandma!” the boy shouted into the storm. “I found the green fella. I guess his friends too.”

  Sanchez’ hand was inching closer to his nine-millimeter as was Anya’s. They both saw that the boy was unsure of himself. His eyes were wide in fright. The barrel of the shotgun was wavering up and down and from side to side. Another world-shaking bolt of lightning reached for the world below and that made the teenage boy jump. Sanchez saw his opportunity.

  “Boy, lower tha
t gun ‘afore you blow your own foot off,” shouted a voice behind all of them. “You, the big Mexican fella, and you, gypsy girl, don’t pull those guns or we’ll have a real mess on our hands. A mess that will outright ruin everyone’s night.”

  As they turned, they were shocked to see an old woman. She had at least ten men on her right and ten men and women on her left. Everyone but the old woman was armed. Some with automatic weapons. Anya and Sanchez both moved their hands away from their hidden weapons. The boy moved off to stand next to the old woman who placed an arm around him. She held him close and with her free hand rubbed his wet hair as one of the men in her company disarmed both Sanchez and Anya and searched the others.

  “Go stand by your pa,” the old woman with the heavy wool coat said.

  Alice, Matchstick, Charlie, Virginia, Sanchez, and Anya watched as the teenager moved away and stood by a large man who was more than six and half feet tall.

  “Look, ma’am, this is no joke. We’re from—,”

  “I knows where you’re from young man,” she said, cutting Sergeant Sanchez off. She started to come closer to the startled men and women of the Event Group. “Jim Bob, we can’t have these good folks followin’ us.”

  “Yes, Granny,” the largest man with the teenaged son said as he came forward with plastic ties.

  “You can’t tie us up and leave us here,” Anya said as the man turned her around and slipped the plastic wire-tie over her wrists and then tied them behind her back.

  “Oh, I ‘spect your friends will find you soon ‘nough I recon.”

  “We have to take Matchstick back with us,” Alice said as another person, this one a woman in shabby secondhand clothing helped tie her up. “He’s our friend and you have no right to take him.”

  The old woman finally advanced in the dark. She walked up to Matchstick who was holding firmly onto Alice’s legs. His eyes were wide, and he was shaking. The old woman placed a withered hand onto the side of the lightbulb shaped head of the small alien.