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77900/849657/86115876557/8316/98999
77900/65468438/68488/6841385/5812
77900/5782/425646556/545/54845685584///
As Cherko entered this information, something in his mind “clicked.” It was as if his communications had suddenly “stepped up a level.” It was like he was now sucking on a mental fire hose that spewed full-bore into the mouth of a hummingbird. There was now more breadth to these communications, more depth, and an expansiveness that felt like a wide, open, prairie. Like a whole nother “room” had just opened up in his mind...
Did you do that on purpose?, Cherko was asked.
Something just happened. I’m not sure what.
You ascended to a higher plane of communication.
What does that mean? I feel a bit... overwhelmed.
It is merely another plane, or level of communication. More texture, more data about your communications are made available here.
Was this supposed to happen?
You are the first. Yours is preliminary data.
It’s not a problem to communicate at this level?
It is not.
I noticed, as I took down these data strings... I had more imagery, data I find hard to put into words...
Silence.
Why can’t you tell me about the abductions? What is the purpose of the Project?
Communications are terminated.
Cherko was about to whack his console out of frustration, when he regained his situational sense about him and checked his crew members and commander. Definitely wouldn’t be the thing to do. So he hit F10, took a deep breath or two to calm down, and tried to bring back the images of the just transmitted communication. Though there were aspects of the images he couldn’t seem to mentally translate, there were aspects he could.
A driver.
There had been a rancher four-wheelin it across his fields. Looking for stray cattle. It was late. Clear night sky. Headlights before him. Bumpy, jangling, ride.
A light. Off in the distance, up above a hill. To his right.
Shadowing him?
Headlights forward, light to the right.
Confusion.
Truck... stopped.
Here Cherko had a myriad of images that blasted confusion and pain... blurs of faces and backgrounds. Examinations... probing, on both physical and mental levels.
The rancher came to... in his truck... three miles and several hours later....
Cherko saw a sign.
He knew this location.
* * *
Calhan, Colorado
18 June 1986
0811 Hours Mountain Time
Cherko sat in his car, pulling a short sip from his water bottle and staring out into the field. He took a left onto Calhan Highway, North. This was where he’d seen that rancher. Where he’d been... returned. Somewhere out there.
Why the hell were people being abducted?
Cherko got out of his car and walked to the side of the road, to the barbed-wire fence and “No Trespassing” sign. The early morning breeze felt good. It always felt good to get out after having been cooped up in a windowless environment for eight-and-a-half hours.
But, God, he should have changed out of his uniform. He stood out like a sore thumb.
He went to the trunk of his car and found his binoculars. Pulling them out of their case, he adjusted them to look out over the field.
Nothing.
Lots and lots of nothing.
Cattle in the distance.
Then, farther up the field north of him, he found what looked like a lump on the ground. It looked like...
A body.
Cherko brought down the binoculars. A chill ran through him.
A body?
He looked down both directions of the road.
Alone.
He brought his 10x50 binocs back up. He just didn’t have the resolution or angle necessary to make out exactly what he was looking at. He brought the binocs back down and looked to the fence before him and its “No Trespassing” sign.
Cherko ducked through the wide spacing of the barbed-wire fence and cautiously hurried toward the lump on the ground, nervously scanning the wide, open, plains. The closer he got to the lump the more evident it became it was a body. But it wasn’t human.
A horse. It was a horse.
Cherko slowed back down to a hurried and nervous walk and cautiously approached. Constantly swiveled his head. There were no other horses or cattle around it. In fact the livestock he did see were much farther east, up on another slope. As Cherko came up to the carcass, he noticed no smell. None. It was huge. As he made his way around the remains he stopped dead in his tracks, dropping the binoculars.
“What the hell?”
The neck and head were stripped clean to the bone.
Again nervously scanning the fields, he picked up his binocs; continued examination of whatever-was-left-of the horse. Noticed the depressions his steps made in the dirt and grass around it.
“There’s no smell...”
He wrinkled his face. Came as close to the carcass as he dared.
All flesh, muscle, and other tissue were totally removed from the frame of the animal’s neck and head, leaving only, and nothing but... bone. Just as clean as if...
A laser had been used.
There was no blood.
No stink.
No bugs.
Cherko looked about the animal. Looked back the way he’d come. He again looked to his own footsteps in the dirt and crushed grass as he approached the carcass.
There were no hoof marks in the dirt around the carcass.
How had the horse gotten here if it hadn’t walked?
Cherko got another intense round of chills, actually shivered this time, and backed away.
He turned and began hurrying toward his car... and stopped.
A black car was parked behind his vehicle.
He brought up the binoculars. His fingers didn’t want to work. Felt thick, clumsy.
The black car pulled out and away from his, driving on up the road in no apparent hurry.
And engine noises were quickly approaching from behind. From the hills where he’d spotted the grazing cattle.
Cherko sprinted for his car.
Chapter Twelve
1
Cherko slammed the apartment door behind him.
Locked it.
Checked back through the peephole, then rushed to the patio door to make sure that not only was it locked, but that its hanging plastic slats were also drawn and flat against the window.
The ride home had been the most paranoid of his life.
What the hell had that mutilated horse been about?
What was that black car about, and why had it stopped behind his?
Cherko sat on the couch; stared into the TV and wall unit.
He was an Air Force officer, working in classified satellite operations, but was also—apparently—a covert Air Force alien communicator. He was mentally communicating with aliens; communicating, among other things, about abductions.
Humans were being snatched up by someone or something.
And—he just found out—at the location of one of these abductions was a mutilated horse carcass (no doubt already gone—the area surely sanitized).
No blood.
No bugs.
No flesh or muscle on the head.
And there were no tracks to the carcass by the once living animal.
Cherko’s phone rang.
Cautiously, he approached it, but let the answering machine pick up. At the beep, he braced himself.
“Hi, honey... it’s your mother,” came the lolling, familiar voice thick with New Jersey. “I’m out in Las Vegas for a convention—”
Cherko grabbed the handset.
“Mom?”
“Hi, honey! Didn’t expect you to be home, or awake, or—”
“Actually I just got in.”
“What good timing, then! I just had the urge to call. Felt y
ou needed to talk.”
* * *
“You like the new job?”
“It’s pretty interesting, yeah.”
“So, what’d you say in your letter, you’re ‘flying satellites’?”
“Yeah.”
“You actually sit atop them and ride them like a horse”
(carcass....)
she said, laughing that high-spirited laugh of hers.
“No, Mom, it’s not like Dr. Strangelove—”
“Why not? It’s such a cool image!”
“Because those people would be called astronauts, and, as we all know, I’m not one of them.”
“I’m sorry, honey—”
“It’s okay.”
“So... you just, what, how did you put it, hook up to satellites by ground stations and just... follow them around?”
“Yup; pretty much. That’s my life... pretty boring.”
“You okay? You sound funny.”
Cherko paused.
“Mom... you still have, you know...”
“Yes.”
“A lot?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say a lot, not like when you were a child—”
“But it still happens.”
Renée sighed. “Yes.”
“And you can’t find any answer to it—from anyone?”
“Jimmy—what’s the matter? What’s bothering you?”
“I was driving out east of town today, after work. Out in some rancher’s field I found something. Something pretty disgusting.”
“What?”
“A dead animal. A horse carcass. Without a head.”
“Without a head?”
“Well, it actually still had its skull and vertebrae attached... but there was... no flesh, Mom, no muscle—or any other tissue.”
“I see.”
“It was pretty unnerving. And no smell. Absolutely nothing. No bugs. No tracks to the carcass except mine.”
Renée fell silent for a moment. “What were you doing out in the middle of a rancher’s field to begin with?”
“I’d just gone for a drive.”
“After work?”
“Sometimes I do that,” he lied. “Anyway, I’m kinda surprised at how much it shook me up. I wasn’t expecting to see anything like that.”
“Guess not.”
“So, it got me to thinking... and I’ve thought about this a lot over the years—”
“You think I’m being abducted.”
“Well, don’t you? I mean, really, doesn’t that make perfect sense? Missing time, finding yourself all over the place—no memories?”
“Well, yes.”
“And I bet you’ve been having those dreams, again, too, haven’t you?”
Renée burst out laughing.
“Mom... it’s not really all that funny. I mean, who knows what’s happening!”
“No matter what might be happening, I have no memory of it, so how can I really answer your question?”
“But to make jokes about it—”
“Really, honey, what else can I do? Hmm?”
“That’s just it, I don’t know!”
“Well, there you go. All I can do is live my life the best I can, until I find out what is going on. What would you do?”
Cherko sighed.
“Exactly. I seem to be able to live a basically happy, normal, life, only thing is every now and then I find myself, well, waking up in strange locations, is all. At least it’s not with strange men!”
“Mom...”
“Sonny, no matter what life deals us, we have to make the best of it. I look at it like this... I could have had cancer or been mangled in a car crash. I don’t and I haven’t been. I’m apparently healthy, have a good sense of humor, but every now and then... sleepwalk. So far, it hasn’t killed me—”
“Mom...”
“Well, it hasn’t. But you never know. And so far, I’ve managed to survive. I just have to keep going, live life until some day we either find a cure for whatever ails me or I die. It’s that simple.”
“I guess....”
“Whether or not aliens are involved, well, I’m here right now. And if I do forever disappear, you’ll know why, then, right?”
“You’re so cavalier about all this!”
“What else can I say? I’ve been to all the doctors, and no one can help.”
“What about hypnosis?”
“I’ve tried that—”
“And?”
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean, ‘nothing’?”
“I seem to be blocking it, or something. Or there’s just nothing there. No one can seem to break through to me. I just end up sitting there, quiet.”
“Don’t you find that odd? I thought hypnosis was supposed to break through all conscious and unconscious barriers.”
“Not always. Some people just can’t be hypnotized.”
“And you just happen to be one of them?”
“What can I say?”
“Well, you could sound a little more concerned...”
“That’s not me and you know it.”
“I know. Maybe... maybe I’m just tired. I don’t know.”
“Well, you have been up a long time. Why don’t you go to bed and see how you feel when you get up.
“How’s Erica?”
Cherko smiled. “Great.”
“You two still getting along well?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“That’s wonderful, honey!”
“It is. She is. I like her a lot.”
“Interesting...”
“Mom...”
“A mother can dream, can’t she?”
“I s’pose.”
“Well, I have to get going, get back to that convention they sent me to.”
“Dad come?”
“No—was in the middle of another search.”
“Kay. Thanks for calling, Mom.”
“What are mothers for?”
“Love you, Mom.”
“Love you, too, Sonny.”
* * *
Cherko was awoken by heavy pounding at his apartment door. It was one o’clock.
A.m. or p.m.?
Jumping out of bed in his shorts and a T-shirt, he rushed to the door. Looked out the peephole.
Men. Two of them.
But he couldn’t totally make them out without his contacts or glasses, and them being turned away from the door. Cherko spun around, quickly looking for his glasses.
They wore overcoats—in June?
He squinted back through the peephole. One turned back toward him, the wide brim of his hat angled over his face.
Cherko stepped back, staring at the door.
Agents?
That black car.
More pounding on the door.
Cherko unlocked it—
The two men strode in with surprising speed, all but smashing him up against the wall.
“May we come in?” the first one asked, continuing past, while the second ushered Cherko farther inside the apartment, closing the door behind them.
“Can I see some identification?” Cherko asked, nervously and not without some effort.
“Certainly,” Talking One said. The other directed Cherko over to his couch and forced him down onto it. He stood beside him.
The men were tall and dark skinned. The talking one’s voice was thick with an accent he couldn’t identify, his voice deep. There was a definite menacing presence the about both of them.
“What were you doing out in that field this morning?” Talking One asked. Calmly.
“What?”
“That field, Mr. Cherko. What were you doing trespassing on that rancher’s property?”
“Nothing—I was just looking at—”
“What?”
“I told you—nothing.”
“Looking at nothing. With binoculars?”
Talking One pulled out Cherko’s binoculars and smashed them against a corner of wall.
“What—�
��
Talking One opened his hand and allowed the binoculars to drop to the floor.
Still groggy from sleep, but feeling like he’d just been hit up beside the head, Cherko stared at the man.
“You took an oath, did you not, Lieutenant?”
“Oath?”
“To your country.”
“My—”
“It would be very sad for anything to happen to your mother. Your father... wouldn’t it, Lieutenant? Erica?”
Cherko tried to get to his feet, but Silent One forced him back down, and with quite a bit more power than was even remotely necessary. Cherko worked his shoulders.
Talking One paced the apartment.
“You also might want to be careful about what you tell others.”
In one amazingly swift movement, Talking One shot over to the phone and effortlessly tore it from the wall. The phone dinged several times as it bounced and shattered across the floor.
“Hey!” Cherko said, again shooting to his feet.
Talking One spun on him and was in his face before he could blink. Cherko tried to back away, but wasn’t fast enough. The dinging of the phone still rang in his head. The aura of absolute and utter menace emanating from the man was crushing, especially inches from his face.
“You made a promise. To never, ever, speak of your job... and it would be a reeeal disappointment if you did. For all involved. A real disappointment, Mr. Cherko. Do we understand each other?”
Cherko stared at the now phoneless wall.
“Do we?”
“Y-yes.”
“Good. Now... do your job. Don’t be so curious,” he said leaving Cherko’s face, “and everyone gets along.”
Silent One left Cherko’s side.
“Good day, Mr. Cherko,” Talking One said, as both exited the apartment. As they did, Cherko got the curious image of the both of them reverse-oozing out of the place like some nightmarish sci-fi oil slick.
Cherko looked back to his destroyed phone. Then he broke his trance and rushed to the apartment door, flinging it open.
Gone.
He hurried back inside, and fumbling with the patio door mechanism, shot out onto the patio landing.
Gone.
Reentering his apartment, his legs buckled, and he collapsed on the floor next to the couch.
Stuff like this just didn’t happen to him.
Couldn’t have happened.