by B. C. CHASE
Kelle's voice was low and dead-earnest, but her eyes looked scared to death, “Jarred told me you lost your wife and your baby. But I need to know if I can trust you. What can you tell me that would convince me?”
He moistened his lips. “Um . . . is that a trick question?” he asked warily.
“Let me put it this way. I'll pull the trigger if your answer doesn't cut it.”
“Uh, okay. That's definitely fair,” he said sarcastically. He furtively glanced at the door, wondering if he could try an escape. Nope. He wiped his mouth nervously, though his agitation was alleviated as he noticed her hand shaking. He relaxed, scratched his neck.
“No funny business,” she said, her voice quivering.
Drawing a deep breath, he eyed the barrel of the pistol. The longer he stared at it, the more he found it inviting. He felt a sudden swell of emotion wash over him as he realized the truth: he wanted her to pull the trigger. Without Sienna, what did he have to live for? He had been in a horrified daze ever since it happened. The pain was too much to bear. He shrugged, “Go ahead. Shoot me.”
“Don't think I won't!” she threatened.
“No, please. I want to die.”
She pulled her head back, squinted. “Why?”
“My wife's name was Sienna. The doctor said we couldn't conceive. But by some miracle, she was fourteen weeks pregnant. We were happy, you know, really happy for the first time since we'd found out. She'd already given him a name.” Wesley swallowed, “Now it's been two weeks. And I'm thinking,” he shook his head, “what could I have done? Was there a sign I could have noticed. Could I have gotten her to the doctor before it happened? What did I do wrong?” He looked down at the ground, clenching his teeth. “Please, end my life. I don't want to feel this anymore.” When he looked up, he was surprised to see tears filling her eyes.
She lowered the gun and wiped at her eyes, seeming to struggle to catch her breath. She bent over, her hand to her chest, taking breaths in little gasps.
He asked, “Are you okay?”
She looked up at him with the saddest eyes he had ever seen. She said, “I'm so sorry for you.” Then she looked down again, “I'm so sorry for both of us. Jarred was my husband.”
It was like looking at himself through a looking glass, seeing his pain from the outside looking in, and it was overwhelming to him. He stepped to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. She immediately grasped his hand and held it tightly, as if to hang on for dear life. Pulling on him to lift herself up, she wrapped her arms around him and wept into his chest.
Wesley dutifully enclosed her in his arms. As he did so, a familiar sense of intimacy swept over him. Her body felt just like Sienna's had. Wesley's voice cracked as he said, “I'm very sorry about your husband.”
Her body shaking, she said, “They killed our babies too.”
The sick despair that had oppressed Wesley now pummeled him with full force, and he felt himself losing it. They wept together for a few moments, her tears gushing down his jacket.
She voiced, “Kyle was two and Braden was three. Just little kids. Why would they do that?” She wiped her eyes and sniffled, “I barely managed to get away.” Her tone stiffened, “Now I wish I hadn't.”
Wesley held her out and looked deeply into her eyes, “Listen, we're going to find out who did this and why they did it.” Then he stared up into the darkness of the vacant store. He thought, And then I'm going to kill them.
Jet
Gary had been worrying about Jeffery the entire flight. He switched out the overhead light and rested his head against the leather chair, angling it to look at Stacy. He was amazed she could sleep, but, like a child, she had always been able to doze off anywhere, no matter what the circumstances. She was lying on her left side and a blanket was tucked under her chin. He watched her chest rise and fall with her breathing. He looked at her face, still appreciating her beauty, even after all these years.
He was overweight and she wasn't as trim as she had been, but he still found her breathtakingly attractive. Since long before Jeffery had disappeared, though, intimacy had all but vanished between them.
It all centered on children, Gary thought. Before they married, she had agreed that children were out of the question. They were both past thirty when they wed; their careers just couldn't accommodate the intrusion. But, several years after the knot was tied, she started getting antsy. She would never say she wanted a baby, but the signs were everywhere. She would coo endlessly at other people's babies whenever they made an appearance. He found her in the baby aisles on more than one occasion. She would say things like, “Isn't that a cute baby?” or “Doesn't he look like a good, happy father?”
But a baby was the last thing Gary wanted and, had she said she wanted one from the beginning, he would never have married her. It wasn't fair for her to expect this now. So he ignored all the signs. And then, gradually, the Stacy he knew and loved began to whither away and a cruel, impossible woman arose in her place. It began with nit picking and nagging every moment they were together. Eventually, she yelled, screamed, threw things, slammed doors, all at the slightest offense. It was impossible to have a reasonable sit-down conversation, let alone a nice quiet dinner out. She was ceaselessly angry. Gary learned to steer clear, staying at work as late as possible, but he began to harbor bitterness against her.
And then, the unthinkable happened. On a rare night when Stacy had been a little tipsy from a Christmas party at work, she was willing and he pounced.
The next month, it was confirmed. She was pregnant. At forty-six years old, she was pregnant. Gary was almost fifty. He couldn't believe it, couldn't handle it. So he told her to get an abortion. She refused, threatening divorce. Gary didn't want to see most of his income go to alimony and child support, so Jeffery was born to married parents.
After he was born, things only became worse between Gary and his wife. She devoted most of her time and attention to her little bundle of joy, quitting her job and throwing the entire burden of the family's financial fortunes on Gary, to whom she devoted no attention at all. Gary would have been jealous, but little Jeffery's little antics and lovable personality won him over.
Since Jeffery's birth, Gary hadn't even bothered coming to bed in his own room on some nights, and Stacy never said she missed him. He would get through a few more years of this marital misery, till Jeffery was older, and then he'd pull the plug, he told himself.
Then Jeffery disappeared. Whatever strands of a marriage were left had been severed. They were united by law only. In a horribly ironic way, it had been just what Gary wanted. But no matter how much he hated his wife, he loved Jeffery and wanted to save him.
Now, on the plane, he strapped a sleep mask over his eyes and waited for slumber. As he drifted in and out of sleep, he was aware of turbulence. Out of an opening on the bottom of the mask, he could see that the cabin was still dark, but the floor trembled alarmingly. Suddenly he could see the cockpit door slowly swing open. A black form stood in the doorway. It was the pilot. He strode forward, his head steady, his eyes probing the darkness. He took slow, sure steps, erect like a soldier. His eyes seemed to mechanically examine the darkness as he moved down the walkway.
The flight attendant emerged from the doorway and joined his path. Gary's heart pounded in his chest as he felt a deep darkness overcome the cabin. The pilot stopped next to Gary. The head turned slowly. Gary cringed and squeezed his eyes shut. Suddenly, he felt icy breath on his lips. It was the flight attendant. A lifeless, feminine hand touched his cheek and began to peel the mask away from his face. Gary felt a strong desire to open his eyes. Her frigid lips were close to his, his hands tightened around the armrests. The mask was being drawn off when the plane shuddered violently. She let go of the mask and pulled away. Gary squinted out the crack of his mask. There was a flash of light through the windows and a splintering sound. The attendant was catching her balance rigidly, a menacing, emaciated figure with large, black eyes. Her fingers were long, stiff and sk
eletal. Then Gary heard the shriek of the wind outside the aircraft, and the plane lost altitude. He watched the flight attendant and pilot flee back to the cockpit. The door slammed shut behind them. Lightning flashed in a series of white bursts while the aircraft leveled, as if nothing had happened. Gary removed his mask and looked at Stacy. She was still sleeping soundly. He realized he must have had a nightmare.
Eventually, he fell back asleep.
When he woke again, there was an ear-splitting scream and he was pressed back into his seat with bone-crushing force.
Jet
The plane was climbing dramatically. The G-force was so strong that Gary had to gasp for breaths. Stacy’s eyes were wide with terror. The engines were screaming, and he saw the flight attendant desperately clinging to a seat leg with her arms. As the plane tilted higher up, she lost her hold and tumbled toward the back with a scream. Their speed slowed until, for a moment, they were weightless. As he gazed at Stacy, she shrieked in a panic, “GARY!”
But then the plane's nose was dropping as they hurled down in a free fall. The attendant fell forward and landed like a sack of potatoes over the back of a chair. Gary's stomach was in his chest. He saw the attendant raise her head, her face covered in blood, her mouth open in a long, gut-wrenching scream.
He was clinging to his seat, but with some effort he reached out to grab his wife's hand. Then the screaming sound from the engines stopped, and all he could hear was the loud rushing wind, like a train.
Suddenly a tremendous blast from the left wing sent the plane into a jolting spiral. In one quick movement, the attendant hit the ceiling head-first, her neck cracking. Her limp frame toppled over to lodge against the wall.
Gary heard Stacy retching and felt her warm vomit splatter on his face and shirt. Acrid smoke filled his nostrils.
Their plummet was increasingly intense and Gary began to lose his vision. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was spinning greenery out the windshield.
United Nations Security Council
When Doctor Matthew Manley Martin returned to his seat at the Security Council chamber on the front row, he noticed that the chair beside his was vacant. His fiancée had left.
No matter, he thought. He had nailed the speech without her. Besides, he was used to her frequent disappearances. She never carried a cell with her and could hardly be relied upon to stay in one place for longer than a few hours, though she was always there when it really counted.
He was vaguely aware of the next witness being assisted to the desk as he recalled the first time he had met his fiancée.
Still reeling from the death of his sister, his career was taking a nosedive toward disaster. In his grief, he had succumbed to excessive alcohol and drugs. He had shown up to more than one lecture drunk. He was high a good deal of the time.
But then, one day after his class had left the room, he had looked up from his desk where he was standing to see that one of his students remained.
She was certainly less than half his age. Deadly attractive, with large, wide-set black eyes, pouting lips, and a graceful neck. They said that beauty was the result of symmetry. If that was so, then she was perfection. Her skin was so smooth and flawless, she looked almost like a computer generated image. An exquisite, china-doll image.
She strode over to the door of the room and used her fingers to gracefully swing it closed. She looked over her shoulder, “Matthew, I love you.”
He raised his eyebrows, “Don't you think you're a little young to know what love is?”
Her hips swiveled attractively as she walked directly toward his desk, unbuttoning her shirt, “I think I understand how it works.”
“Really? You know, there's more to it than … anatomy.” He swallowed.
She reached him and said, “I'm here to rescue you from yourself. You are about to throw a lifetime of achievement out the window because of something everyone faces.”
“And what is that?”
“Grief.”
He drew a calm breath, studying her face. She looked incredibly sincere, even with her front totally undone.
“You are a very gifted man, Matthew. You see things that others miss, you are willing to risk ridicule for the truth. If you only stick with it, you could launch a true paradigm shift. The way people think about science could change forever.”
He knew that what she said was true. His research did have remarkable repercussions if only they were explored to their fullest potential.
“I love you, I love what you've done, and I'm not going to let you throw it all away.” She placed a soft hand on his jaw. Then she moved in to give him a wonderful kiss on the mouth. Her skin felt like velvet.
It was an unnatural relationship on many levels. First, of course, was the age difference. Second was the fact that they never argued or had disagreements; he never felt the desire to contradict her, and she provided him with everything his heart desired.
Ever since that first day, there had been endless, lustful sex. She was a siren in every sense of the word and, he had little doubt, had used her beguiling sensuality to bend him to her will.
Most of all, though, she urged him on in his work. She championed his search for answers. She was not directive or domineering. No, rather, through sweet manipulation and charming dictation, she oriented his career. Her extraordinary brilliance and almost prophetic intuition brought him tremendous success and publicity. His books now sold millions of copies. He was beginning to be called upon regularly for the speaking circuit. And he had recently received an offer from Oxford with a gigantic grant. Now, here he was, having just finished a testimony that would be witnessed by perhaps billions of people. Deep down, he knew she was somehow connected to all of it. It was all thanks to her.
This is why he was now like a puppy on a leash: his dependence upon her was total. At first it had unnerved him in a beguiling sort of way. Now, she was a wonderful addiction from which he did not wish to be freed.
And, speaking of addictions, she had never discouraged his use of narcotics, either. She believed that opium elevated him to a different plane where bigger ideas flowed freely. It was a new level of consciousness.
She now sat down beside him and placed her hand on his knee. The next speaker was stating his name for the record: “I am Paul Hager, former Minister of National Defense of Canada[11].” He was extremely elderly and frail; it looked as though he might collapse at any moment. His breaths were labored, but his voice firm.
“Thank you. Please proceed with your testimony.”
“I am here, I believe, because I have the dubious distinction of being the first cabinet-level official from a G8 nation to acknowledge the existence of lifeforms from outside our planet. I did so many, many years ago and was the only such high-ranking official to do so until just in the last couple years, during which more have come forward. Even officials still active in government have put their reputations and indeed their jobs on the line for the sake of truth. Some might say I was courageous, but I would say 'no' because I was already retired when I came forward. I, rather, applaud those who are bringing the truth now, those who could pay for it.”
“Now, with regard to the these otherworldly beings, I would like to make two important points: we have been referring to them as 'they' or 'them' for far too long, and it is time we unequivocally acknowledge that enough information is available to bring them out of obscurity. 'They' are not an amorphous mass. They are different species, at least five, and consequently might have different agendas. To assume that they come with the same agenda would be simple ignorance, just as assuming China, Russia, and the United States have a single agenda.
“My second point is that, among the UFO community which, since my early involvement with it, has grown substantially in both numbers and esteem, there has been a morbid preoccupation with corpses and other remains, but I think that this is substantively meaningless. The fact is that there are live ET's here now, and I have known and been personally aware of two of them
which have been working with the United States government for many years.
“As for my part, I am asked how much of my personal knowledge of these alien beings have I disclosed. I can say that ninety-five percent of what I know I have shared, but there have been some important facts that I have been unprepared to disclose. Now, in my testimony here before the world, I wish to share the rest.
“It is time that the world knows the truth. Just as children survive the idea of the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus, I think the world is prepared to deal with the humbling truth that we are but a small part of a cosmos teeming with life of various sorts, and we are, in fact, the most primitive of all of them.
“Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I will share my truthful testimony of what happened to me, what I saw while I was minister of defense, and the things of which I am aware. This will be a tremendous weight off my chest, I must say, as I have wrestled a lifetime of fear.”
Jet
When Gary awoke, he was dangling from his seat; the floor was where the ceiling should have been. The front half of the plane was gone; cleanly torn off. He could see a forested slope outside the opening. There was strong wind and rain that fell sideways. Stacy was hanging by her seat belt, unconscious beside him.
Or dead.
Gary lifted the lever on his seat belt buckle and toppled off the overhead bin, landing on his back in the valley of the ceiling between the compartments. He looked back up at Stacy. Standing, he felt her hand. She was warm, but that probably didn't mean anything. He patted her cheek and, to his relief, her eyes flitted open. “Stacy, honey. How do you feel?”
“Where are we?”
“I don't know. Can you unbuckle your seat belt? I'll catch you.”
She complied and he did his best to cushion her fall. It didn’t work the way he planned.