Way up north of Atlanta, I remember sitting on the side of the road seeing mountains for the first time. Granted, they weren’t Rocky Mountains big, but to me they were as close to the sky as I’d ever been.
I was a lost man. Mom couldn’t feed me. I needed to make a life decision before my five hundred dollars evaporated. I spent a couple of weeks hitchhiking north and passed through valley after valley of farmland, waterfalls, and thick wooded bumpy ground. Spunky, eighteen-year-old me was moved by the beauty. I decided to come back one day.
The adult in me realized mom needed as much help as I did. I played the good-son-card and hitched back home to Oklahoma.
Mom and I shared a cheap place as close to the trade school as we could find. She got a certificate in cosmetology. It changed her life. Mom was always a bit on the reserved side, but after she started doing hair and hustling accounts, she hit her grove.
I studied security and started on the bottom. A night watchmen gig at one of the aviation manufacturers let me do day school. It turned out I liked security work and decided to make it a career. And with all the government money being thrown in the area due to military spending, it was rock solid employment.
A nightly chill started to settle and brought me out of my reminiscing.
This was a nice neighborhood. I was lucky to find a cheap place close to campus. Gracious trees lined the streets and two story brick homes with brightly polished windows used to sparkle in the evening light. Now the area was dead. Half the houses were at least partially collapsed, and seeing a neighbor out in their yard was the exception. It was as if fear was the new garden crop, causing the locals to wander around like zombies. I was worried. Shock does strange things to people.
I walked across the street. Gael’s house was a shambles. Even the chimneys collapsed inward. It was neat and tidy in a respectful way. Several flowers were laid on one large section of brick wall. The flowers kinda clinched the experience from her point of view.
My feet led me around back, where I’d seen her pass a few minutes earlier. A mismatched brick path took me between some tall shrubs and a flicker of soft light danced between the leaves.
I could hear the sharp snap of heavy breathing. My curiosity got the better of me, and I took a tentative glance around the foliage. Gael was doing some kind of a dance under an open-walled pavilion. Every third or fourth step, she would strike out with a fist or a kick. It was amazing. She was a badass.
Something about this town didn’t add up.
Chapter Four
A loud explosion woke me a couple of hours before dawn. I leapt to my feet, ran to the living room, and stared out the window. Gael was already there by the drapes, having spent the night on the couch.
I could see a couple of helicopters circling the town. The sky was a mixture of darkness and blue lightning. Lots of lighting, lightning was erupting from the ground toward the helicopters.
The hair on my arms stood up as my apartment started to shake.
We both looked at each other and silently agreed running for the door was the best option. I won. Yep, I beat the old gal. I felt better with the accomplishment.
We stumbled down the stairs and moved to an open space without trees. The sky was beautiful. If you think the daytime sky looks good in blue, you should see the night sky with blue lightning flashing three hundred and sixty degrees around you.
The choppers didn’t like the storm and neither did all the houses. Remember the red-hot poker thing from earlier? It was back, and this time I got to see it in action. Wiring and piping from home to street were aglow. I could hear booms and crashes off in the distance. Three doors down, a half leaning house tumbled to the ground.
Gael and I stood in amazement.
The choppers’ engines started to whine, and I could see their dark frames silhouetted against the hellish aurora. Those whirly birds turned tail and ran back the way they’d come.
The buzzing and popping stopped, along with the lightning. I didn’t realize how quiet the dark could be. Going from bright light to total darkness in a fraction of a second blinded me.
“Never thought I would see that twice in a lifetime,” Gael said.
I made my comment to the dark unseen voice. “You’ve seen it before?”
“Yes, the night all the buildings fell down.” I could feel Gael pause to drag up a memory. “You were in the basement weren’t you?”
I dug my tongue to the inside of my cheek. “Yeah, I think I might have gotten the better end of the deal.”
We stood there a few more minutes watching the wires on the street poles slowly lose their red glow.
Eventually my eyes started to adjust to the predawn light. “You think it was the death ray?”
**
I didn’t even try to go back to sleep. Instead, I heated some water for a bath. And to be honest, the encounter with the mysterious cobalt lightning left me shaking.
If this is what happened to the town it’s no wonder it fell down.
We watched the real sunrise sitting in the Adirondack chairs while sipping hot java. It was as if some strange wakeup call bonded us. Gael wasn’t so bad, and heck, she didn’t even smell like an old person. She was still a looker as grandpa would say.
The hour to leave approached. We grabbed a little gear for Gael from what she’d stowed in the trunk, and I did a quick strip down of Betsy. I for one wanted to be moving forward. If it meant eating soggy eggs at a church retreat, so be it.
I spun Capri out of the driveway, and we were on the way. An address and small map was on the back of the flyer the church group delivered with the bread, but we knew where the church was, it was a small town. We weren’t likely to get lost.
Instead of turning north, I swung south and headed to the center of town toward the post office. Gael didn’t say anything about my choice of directions. She was a vision of calmness as we passed building after collapsed building.
I parked the car at the back loading dock. “I’m going in. You want to stay or go?”
“I’ll stay,” she said pulling a small leather bound book from her bag.
I locked the door behind me, grabbed the tire iron from the trunk, and took the stairs to the roll-door. It was open like I figured it would be. With the violence of the lightning and all, I figured the postal workers probably tucked tail and ran when the first storm passed over the town.
The building was still standing was my first big break. I’d taken the chance, and so far karma was smiling at me. It felt a little weird to just walk into the place but hey, I was on a mission for the government.
It took fifteen minutes of searching, but sure enough, my package was sitting in the ‘signature required’ stockade. The grate was unlocked so I slipped the tire iron in my belt and grabbed the package.
Gael looked up as I exited the building.
I was so excited. Betsy had a new friend. Well, I hoped they’d be friends. Part of the package wasn’t really for me. It was for the security office, extra ammo for training. But the grand prize was the new Colt. I carefully opened the box and pulled out my beautiful pistol. When the University offered to match me dollar for dollar on a new sidearm, I never doubted what to get. My pick was a new generation forty-five to match granddad’s D-Day trophy.
The box also held new leathers and spare magazines. I took the time to thread the holster behind Betsy’s, topped up the magazines, and then loaded my new girl.
I figured I would be nice, so I walked to the passenger window and told Gael I was going to shoot a few rounds.
The new pistol felt good. The Rosewood grips and stainless body were perfection. There was no comparison. Betsy was like an old lover, smooth and comfortable. Holly, my new girl, was a rocket in the hand.
**
The church was an old farmstead nestled in the foothills on the edge of town. Colorful banners and several large pavilion tents swayed in the breeze next to a weathered barn. A steel-roofed multi-story house sat at the end of the long driveway.
Appalachia is an enchanted place. For those who believe, fairies and spirits live in the hills. This farm didn’t disappoint. Magic lived here. Mr. Dallas alluded to, electrical magic.
The winding gravel road was lined with fruit orchards and late season pumpkins still dotted one of the lower fields. Gael watched with silent introspection. Last night’s lightning storm must have affected her more than I though. And for the first time I noticed the wedding band on her finger.
“Umm, Gael, I forgot to ask. Are you married?”
She looked down and twisted the ring. “Widow.”
“I hope he was good to you. You’re a classy lady,” I said, trying to put real compassion in my voice.
“Thanks Rye, I appreciate it.” She looked up and gave me a warm smile. “It’s strange though.”
“Oh, what’s strange?”
“Being a widow.” She took the ring off and read what I think was an inscription on the inside. “It’s been two years now.”
“You can hang with me as long as you want.” I reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze and turned the car down the dirt driveway.
“Thanks, kid. I’m counting on it. Mr. Dallas said I should stick with you.” She squeezed back. We have a meeting with him later today. I’ve actually set up two meetings.”
I felt perturbed. Ticked off. “And you tell me now? What meetings? We’re storming the castle, well the church, and now you tell me we have meetings?”
Gael looked at me and chuckled. “You’re just like my husband.” Slipped back into her quiet mood, and ignored me.
I focused on my driving and the impending church social.
The half-mile long driveway crunched under Capri’s wheels. People walked across the fields or followed the gravel road. The disheveled masses shuffled along in small groups. It was still a nice view, and the decorations made it festive. A couple hundred people meandered around the big tents and barn. A stream of laborers carried trays of food toward the largest pavilion.
A lone school bus turned down the drive after me, puffing black smoke. In all, I estimated two maybe three hundred townies were trekking to this free breakfast. It should be a grand shindig.
A couple of flatbed farm trucks and probably fifty cars, pickups, and vans were neatly spaced, and parked in rows, guided by the efforts of teenagers waving flags on sticks.
The Beatles and ‘Mother Mary…’ kept repeating deep in my mind. I couldn’t shake it.
Gael and I stepped out of the car and were greeted by one of the smiling teens with a flag. “Welcome to our home. We are so pleased you’ve joined us for breakfast and the sermon.” The young man pointed his flag on a stick. The red fabric rustled. “You can go on over to the barn for singing or the big tent for food.”
“Thanks,” I said.
The strange feeling in my gut kicked in harder, and my little voice kept humming.
Gael started walking toward the pavilion as she slung a faded military rucksack over her shoulder. The bag looked older than me.
I got the hint and took a few quick steps to catch up. “I got a bad feeling about this.”
Gael stopped and turned to face me. “How bad?”
“Like we’re about to kick an ant bed.” I cocked an eyebrow to accentuate my point.
Gael grabbed me by the forearm. “If we need to leave, you tell me, okay?”
I shook off the strangeness. “I will. Come on, let’s do this.” I pointed my feet at the tent and started walking. “I hope they have pie.”
Gael caught up a few strides later.
The farmstead was a beautiful place. Yep, beautiful and fun. Someone thrust fresh apple cider into my hand along with a stoneware mug of strong coffee. My man-ego was feeling really special with all the attention from the church gals.
My security training was kicking in, too. I circled the food tent to get a feel for the crowd. While I was at it, I scoped out the fare. Potatoes, ham, eggs, and fruit pies were stacked to overflowing. I also saw a couple of the cafeteria ladies from the college serving.
It was odd only women and girls served the food. Men helped carry the big tureens, but I never saw one lift a finger to bring food to plate.
I read about the Mennonites and Amish in school but never seen them. I didn’t think this was one of those groups, but I wasn’t sure. Their hats were a bit over the top. Blue fezzes capped the men while the women wore the previous century’s fashion of bonnets and cotton dresses with aprons.
The church people were friendly. The locals who hoofed it looked defeated. This could have been their best meal in a couple of days, and it showed.
I eventually filled a plate and Gael and I found an empty spot at one of the communal picnic tables and started to eat. My little voice stayed quiet, and the banter with Gael made for a nice meal.
Half an hour in and three helpings later, I pushed my empty pie plate out of the way and leaned back to stretch my stiff spine. Gael sat beside me, and we took the opportunity to watch the crowd a bit closer.
“How’s your little voice doing?” Gael asked.
I rolled my shoulders and popped a few finger knuckles. “All quiet.” My new pistol leather was binding prompting me to adjust my belt. “Hey, how do you know about my little voice?”
“It’s just a guess. You seem like a man who talks to himself.”
I didn’t know if I should feel insulted or not. “Is this going to be another Twinkie experiment?”
Gael squeezed my hand. “No. Sorry I mentioned it. I figured if we were going to work together, we should understand each other a bit better.”
“No problem. And yeah, I have a little voice. Doesn’t everyone?” I felt a little annoyance creep into my words.
Gael did her granny smile again. “You’re probably right. I suppose we all do.”
I tilted my coffee cup enjoying the bitter dregs and studied the farthest gathering of people congregated out near the barn. One man caught my attention. His dark hair was easy to spot amongst all the sandy blonds. Tom Jackson stood with a group of other fez-wearing men.
“You remember my mentioning Jackson from the security office?” I asked Gael in a low voice.
Her posture never changed, relaxed and straight. “I do. Is he here?”
“Yes, out near the barn.”
“How many are we up to?”
I added up all the cafeteria workers and now Jackson. “Nine. Awful big coincidence don’t you think.”
Gael laid her palm flat on the table top and tapped one finger sending my attention off in a new direction. “Professor Meeks. He’s Dean of the physics department.”
“Blue fez?”
“Blue fez with gold trim.”
A lot of thoughts passed through my mind. Cult was the first one, and the second, and the third. This was too easy. Mr. Dallas was in for a treat. This blue-roofed and bonnet wearing congregation might be the crazies he was looking for.
I leaned into Gael. “We’re one for two. As far as investigations go, this place defiantly meets the criteria for weird. Now all we need to do is locate the death ray.”
My little voice twisted my gut. At first I thought it was the third piece of pie, but after persistent nagging, it got my attention.
Blondie, tall and looking like morning sunshine walked out the back of the house toward the barn. I blinked hard and rubbed my eyes.
Gael must have noticed me. “What did you see?”
“The woman with the long blond hair, bonnet, and bouncy walk, about my age, headed toward the barn?”
“Your Blondie friend?”
“Yeah.”
Gael spent a moment studying the object of my admiration. “Are you sure you shot her?”
“Yeah, I think so.” I answered with less commitment than expected. Dang, she looked pretty good for a woman I’d parked a .45 slug in.
We watched the people move around and counted one more cafeteria worker. This was turning out to be an odd day. Of course the last few days scored pretty high o
n the odd scale, but still, sitting at a church social with fez-wearing men and being served by nineteenth century farmwomen made an impact.
“Let’s go,” I said, pushing my coffee cup way. “Time to have a look in the barn.”
Gael followed my lead and neatly folded her paper napkin and arranged her flatware in an orderly manner.
We took a leisurely stroll toward the barn, taking the time to scan the crowd. The fezzes came in three styles. Plain blue, no adornment, blue with black piping, and a small handful with gold trim.
The bonnet wearers were just as interesting. While the headwear looked the same except for the pattern of the cloth, the small bejeweled pins clipped to the front breast of the women stood out. We saw a lot of plain gold insignia resembling a squashed pyramid with lightning bolts emanating from the top. Gemstones in blue and yellow adorned several of the pins. In all, I estimated about forty woman and as many men belonged to the church.
Our path wound around the food tents allowing us to scope out the area. As we approached the barn, I could see it was well used, but in good order. The paint was fresh and the new metal roof shone like a beacon in the morning sunshine. Gael and I entered the sweet-smelling space and found a circle of benches surrounding a dais of hay bales with plywood laid on top.
Most of the seating was already filled with a mix of locals and church group. A fiery male speaker was on the stage preaching his version of the gospel. The church members were enthralled, rocking back and forth to the tempo of his delivery.
Gael led us to a bench on the outer row. We sat to continue to our observations. “It’s a big barn, she could have gone anywhere,” Gael said.
I continued scanning the crowd and noticed a small door nestled inside of one of the horse stalls. Not such an oddity for a barn, but the two burly men obviously guarding it piqued my curiosity. I clued Gael to my find.
Rye Ironstone: Mother Tesla's Death Ray Page 4