Winston Chase and the Theta Factor

by Bodhi St John

  Alyssa noticed with some trepidation that the lunch rush, if there was one, had finished, leaving only one table occupied by an elderly husband and wife, both of whom bent over their respective crossword puzzles. Theo led her to the leftmost table in the back.

  “Afternoon, Vince!” A waitress behind the counter waved at him. “Who’s your companion?”

  “Hello, Tay,” said Theo as he pulled out a seat for Alyssa. She couldn’t remember anyone ever having done this for her before and sat quickly, feeling self-conscious. “She’s a family friend visiting for the day. I thought I’d show her the best breakfast in Oregon City.”

  The waitress, dressed all in black, approached and slid a couple of menus onto their table. “So, why’d you come here?” She gave Alyssa a wink and a grin. “Just kidding, sweetie. We are the best. I hope you’re hungry.”

  Alyssa found that she couldn’t remember the so-called meal she’d scarfed down before slipping out of Shifford. She wasn’t exactly starving, but her nose told her she’d best find a way to power through a second lunch. “Sure,” she said.

  Theo asked her, “Eggs or French toast?”

  “French toast, please.”

  Theo handed the unread menus back. “Two cheesecake-filled French toasts with the cranberry compote.” He caught the skeptical lift of Alyssa’s eyebrow. “Oh, no. You’ll thank me later. And orange juices, if you’re fine with that.”

  Alyssa nodded, and the waitress disappeared with a smile into the kitchen.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting to eat.”

  Theo lifted his messenger bag into his lap and rested an arm atop it. “My daddy always said, when life offers you a good meal or a good rest stop, say yes, because you never know when the next chance might come.”

  “Solid.”

  Theo seemed to puzzle over the word for a moment, then laughed. “Yes. Solid.” He thought for a moment, then unzipped his bag and gave Alyssa a probing glance. “You seem like a no-nonsense sort of girl. Shall we get to it?”

  She nodded.

  Theo drew out an unmarked manila envelope and set it between them. “How much do you know about the Alpha Machine and the history of…our project?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Some,” she said, still dubious of giving her complete trust. “Is that the proof you said you had?”

  Theo slid the envelope across the table to her. She opened it and peeked inside.

  “Sorry if the exposures are a little off,” he said. “I didn’t trust a lab to develop anything and had to do the printing in my garage.”

  Alyssa drew out three eight-by-ten black-and-white prints. The first didn’t really tell her anything. It only showed a curved cliff face in the desert, with a gravel road leading to a shadowy overhang at the cliff’s base.

  “That’s the entrance to Area X,” said Theo. “See the gun emplacements?”

  He pointed to two spots high up on the rocky bluff. Once his finger withdrew, Alyssa saw two horizontal dark patches, each with a small black stick emerging from it. Given the photo’s grain and distance, Alyssa figured that they could be gun barrels emerging from concealed emplacements. Or they could be sticks poking out from under small rock protrusions.

  The twist of her mouth showed her skepticism.

  Theo gave a small chuckle. “Keep going.”

  The next photo showed a large, open warehouse. In the center, illuminated by several high lamps, was what had to be a flying saucer. Unlike the Saturn-shaped ships of 1950s sci-fi flicks, this one was oblong with a pair of flat, triangular tails at one end, although it did have a narrow “saucer” strip that ran around the craft’s circumference. The front end tapered to a blunt point. Alyssa couldn’t see any windows or legs, but the front third of the ship facing the camera crumpled inward, with a gaping, jagged hole ripped away near the bottom. Row after row of small, unrecognizable objects lay arranged around the craft. If not for a folding chair near the photo’s edge, Alyssa would have had no perspective to gauge the ship’s size — roughly that of a small house, she guessed.

  “You could have done this in an hour or two with Photoshop,” she said.

  Theo rolled his eyes. “Well, then, you’ll love the last one.”

  Alyssa flipped the warehouse image over to see the final photo, and her breath caught in her throat. It showed a figure from the chest up standing behind prison cell bars. It had thin shoulders, white hair that fell in a smooth cascade down its back, and large eyes. The eyes captured Alyssa’s attention most. In black and white, she couldn’t discern their color, but she could tell that they were several shades, and their iris patterns were wholly unlike the radial features of human eyes. The alien’s impassive stare seemed to bore deep inside her.

  “Bernie?” she asked.

  Theo nodded once. “It’s a miracle no one ever caught me taking those shots. Actually, you’re the first person besides me to ever see them.”

  Alyssa exhaled audibly and took another long sip of juice. “OK. Let’s say I believe this. What next?”

  Theo shrugged and gathered the photos back into their envelope. “Well, how much do you know?”

  “Only what Winston was able to tell me in the few minutes after he appeared in my bedroom. Roswell. QVs. Area X. How you, his parents, and this Bledsoe guy worked there until things fell apart.”

  Theo bowed his head thoughtfully. “Fair enough. Although keep in mind that the project itself didn’t fall apart. We didn’t have the technology or science back then to do the sort of genetic manipulation necessary to blend QVs and human DNA and create the radiation-proof soldiers our military wanted.”

  “And we do now?”

  “I’m not sure. All of that pales when you look at it alongside time and space travel. That’s why Winston’s parents did…what they did. Once Claude injected himself, he discovered what the Alpha Machine pieces could do. Unfortunately, he made the mistake of telling the rest of our group. I’ve always suspected it was that knowledge that pushed Devlin over the edge.”

  The waitress returned with their orange juices, then left them to their conversation. Alyssa took a long swig, found it sweet and delicious, and had to restrain herself from gulping it down.

  Alyssa leaned in closer and said, “I have to ask you something. Why didn’t you sound surprised when I called you?”

  Theo’s gaze darted aside, and he pursed his lips. After a moment of thought, he said, “Winston visited me, too. I gave him the ride to your house…back in 1966.”

  “You—” Alyssa started, then filled in the blanks herself. “Did he tell you what was going to happen?”

  Theo shook his head and sipped at his orange juice. “He’s a smart boy. He knows not to foul things up by giving too much information. And, to be honest, that was almost fifty years ago. I may have forgotten some things.”

  “Sure.” Alyssa took deep breath and plunged ahead. “OK, so…Winston wanted me to contact you because he said you were the only person he trusted to help with transportation.”

  Theo laughed. “Typical teenage boy. Only shows up when he needs a ride.”

  Alyssa didn’t share his humor. “He said his mom’s life depends on it, because Bledsoe has her.”

  The mirth vanished from Theo’s features. “I see.”

  “He wants us to meet him at Council Crest tonight. Do you know where that is?”

  “I do.”

  “The plan is to save his mom and then get away and drive to the next Alpha Machine piece he’s trying to get. But, like you say, Winston’s a boy, so he doesn’t always think things through.”

  “Of course,” said Theo as one side of his mustache twitched. “Does he know where the next piece is?”

  Alyssa felt a flash of caution and worry, but she forced the distrust down.

  I’m all in with this guy, she thought. Winston said I could trust him.

  She took one more glance around the restaurant to confirm no one was within hearing range and whispered, “Hanford.”

&
nbsp; Theo took a moment to think through the information, then his brow furrowed with concern. “That’s a national nuclear materials site. I would imagine it’s fairly secure.”

  “Oh, sure. But also think about this: I don’t know what Winston’s plan is for Council Crest, but what if Bledsoe has help? If we get away — and that’s a big if — it’s probably four hours from there to Hanford by car. They can pick us off anywhere they want.”

  Theo shook his head and nibbled thoughtfully on the edge of his mustache. “What if we changed vehicles?”

  Alyssa considered it, then said, “Winston mentioned how he believes that Bledsoe can track the Alpha Machine pieces. That’s how they found what ship he was on.”

  Theo gave her a quizzical look, then nodded. “Radiation emissions. That would make sense. If that’s true, then they would only need to know what direction we were going in order to set up roadblocks in our path.”

  “Right. So, I have another idea, which is the real reason I wanted you to bring those photos.”

  “Oh?”

  Alyssa swallowed and stared fixedly at the table. “My grandfather and I were really close when I was younger. Up until three years ago, I’d usually spend the summer with him at his place near Molalla. But…”

  Theo waited patiently and took another sip of his juice.

  “My dad…” she started, then had to steel herself against the memory. “My dad cheated on my mom. He was gone for two weeks. It was…a really bad time.”

  When she paused, Theo gently asked, “Your grandfather is your mom’s father?”

  Alyssa nodded. “Grandpa Clayton only sees things as right or wrong. He told my mom to divorce my dad. She didn’t. She took him back to keep the family together. Grandpa hasn’t forgiven either of them.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her face. “And I haven’t forgiven him for pushing us away. The last time we talked… Well, it wasn’t pretty.”

  Theo reached across the table and patted the back of her hand. His touch was warm and comforting. “I’m really sorry. I know how hard things like that can be.”

  Alyssa smiled, then she pulled the phone from her back pocket and set it on the table between them.

  “Grandpa had thirty-two years in the Air Force before receiving an honorable discharge. He has a lot of connections.” She gave Theo a meaningful look. “He’s the sort of guy people owe favors.”

  “I see. You want him to fly us to Hanford.”

  “Yeah.”

  Theo pondered the new information as the waitress arrived with their food. As promised, the cheesecake-stuffed French toast with drizzled cranberry compote smelled heavenly.

  Theo wasted no time wading into his meal with fork and knife. “Air beats road, no question,” he said around his food. “Assuming Bledsoe’s people don’t have missiles or something. But where do I come in? You need a ride to Molalla?”

  Alyssa shook her head. “Grandpa’s sense of right and wrong can make him a little obsessive. Once he gets his teeth into something, he won’t let it go. That’s why the Air Force discharged him, even though he was a colonel.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “I grew up listening to him tell stories about his military adventures. Like, he flew in both Gulf wars. But sometimes he had boring jobs, too, and one time he got assigned to Edwards Air Force Base in Nevada. Part of that base is Area 51. They were moving cargo, and a box fell off a forklift. The accident had to be documented, and my grandfather had to sign off on the paperwork. He saw a photo of what had been inside the box. It was described as engine parts, but he said it was smooth, and most of it was transparent like glass. My grandpa knows engines like no one you’ve ever met, and he said it wasn’t like any motor part known to man.”

  Theo leaned back and nodded with dawning comprehension. “And he wouldn’t let it go.”

  “Nope,” Alyssa agreed. “He couldn’t get it out of his head. For years, he researched everything he could find about Area 51. He dug and dug and dug, and eventually, when he wouldn’t go away, they kicked him out. But he’s never stopped searching. It’s his obsession.”

  Theo tapped the manila envelope still on the corner of the table.

  “Right,” said Alyssa. “When we show him your pictures, it won’t matter what happened with my dad. He won’t possibly say no.” She studied her cheesecake French toast, which now somehow seemed less appealing. “I mean…I hope. Because, aside from helping Winston, he’s the only way I won’t get slaughtered for skipping school and leaving home.”

  20

  Lynch's Lead

  Winston awoke to a chaos of movement and frantic voices. He felt himself falling downward, forward, sideways. Smoke scratched at his sinuses just as his body thudded painfully to the ground.

  That jarred him further into consciousness. His ears rang from the impact, but then Winston realized that the high-pitched tone was his tinnitus. It blotted out nearly all other sound, and the pressure behind the noise was so strong that it felt as if his ear canals were being squeezed. The single tone separated into two notes, one an octave lower than the other.

  Again with the multiple notes, Winston thought. Then, as quickly as it had come on, the sound faded away.

  He opened his eyes to see Shade, face flush with exertion and panic, reach down, grab his arms, and begin dragging him.

  “What…?” mumbled Winston.

  “Shh!” Shade hissed, then a glimmer of hope came into his face. “Are you OK?” he whispered urgently. “Can you walk? Or run? Someone is shooting at us.”

  Winston had no idea. Shade was still dragging him over what he realized was the roughly textured steel of the cargo freighter’s deck.

  “What—?” he started again.

  Then a distant man’s voice called out, low and unmistakable: Agent Lynch.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “They’re rubber bullets. Forty caliber. Rubber bullets have less chance of causing catastrophic injury or death. Probably.”

  Shade, breathing hard and sweating harder, pulled Winston around the corner of a container and leaned him against its metal door. He wore two black backpacks, one on his back and the other on his chest. Winston realized that his 1966 green canvas pack pinched uncomfortably tight around his own shoulders.

  The world in Winton’s head still reeled with fog and confusion. He knew it was daytime. He could see water and land nearby through a gap in the container stacks. Winston also realized that there was no vibration under him, although there was a deep, rhythmic rumbling in the air.

  The Coast Guard helicopter, he presumed. And it was getting closer.

  “I was instructed to do it the hard way and take both of you,” Lynch called.

  Shade’s head whipped around as he crouched on one knee, searching for a way out or somewhere to hide.

  “You carried me?” Winston whispered.

  Shade nodded. “Six flights. You’re heavier than you look.”

  “All muscle,” Winston mumbled.

  Shade wiped the sweat from his eyes and said, “I’ll have to fight him.”

  Winston shook his head, both to object and to try and clear his thinking. “Remember the basement?”

  Shade grimaced as he recalled bouncing off the agent. “You’re missing Little Creepy.”

  “It’s at the bottom of the river.”

  “Your parents are waiting for you, Winston,” called Lynch. “They said they miss you.”

  He was coming up on their left. Winston didn’t know if he could run, but they had to get out of here. He set both hands on the deck and leaned forward. He was about to try shoving up to his feet when a large body appeared around the corner to their right. How had he moved like that?

  Agent Lynch bared his teeth at them in what must have been his version of a smile. He looked directly at Shade and said, “Payback time.”

  Like the star lineman he was, Shade didn’t waste seconds on a witty comeback. He launched from his crouch straight into a run. Shade put his head down and rammed his
shoulder deep into Lynch’s gut.

  Somebody smaller or less conditioned probably would have doubled over, crumpled to the deck, and gasped helplessly for a minute or two, just as Brian Steinhoff had a seeming epoch ago. Lynch wasn’t smaller, though, and while he didn’t have enough time to block or dodge the attack, he was able to tighten up in anticipation of the hit.

  When Shade struck, Lynch let out a sudden “ooghh!” as the breath was forced from him. He did not crumple helplessly. Even as Shade drove him off-balance and backward, the hulk of a man grabbed on to Shade’s backpack. In two seconds, Shade would lose his advantage, and then the FBI agent would beat him senseless.

  Sure enough, Lynch’s back crashed into the container behind him. The impact stunned both of them slightly, but Shade still had his head down and one arm wrapped around Lynch’s middle. Lynch straightened, face snarling, pistol gripped in his right hand.

  Winston tried to stand. His hand slipped on the container, sending his back thudding into it. His vision swung uncontrollably from side to side, and his knees threatened to buckle.

  Lynch retained his grip on Shade’s pack, and he pulled the boy upright. He raised his right hand, and for an instant Winston feared that the agent would bring the pistol grip crashing down on Shade’s skull. Instead, he rattled Shade until the boy’s head came up and back, ready for a clear shot. Lynch brought his arm back. In a blur, his elbow rocketed into Shade’s jaw.

  The crack of impact accompanied Shade’s head bouncing sharply to the side. If Lynch hadn’t been holding him up, Shade would have doubtless collapsed. He gave a short cry of pain and blinked several times, trying to bring things back into focus.

  “That was just a tap,” Lynch said. “Now, let’s play.”

  Winston gathered himself to leap onto the big man, knowing it would be futile if not suicidal. However, Lynch paused, lowered Shade slightly, and cocked his head. Winston realized he was listening to his earpiece.

  After a moment, the cruel smile faded from Lynch’s lips. The whine of helicopter rotors grew much louder above them.