by Kurt Newton
His drop-off and pick-up points were marked in red. Ethan had estimated hiking a minimum of ten hours each day. At a conservative two miles per hour he figured he would cover twenty miles per day for the first two days, with the final leg a relaxing ten mile jaunt to the edge of I-84 in Massachusetts, arriving at just around noon. The plan was to call Lindsey once he got close. He knew his cell phone had service on that end because he and Lindsey had already traveled to the pickup location and tested it.
He examined the lower portion of the map. He traced his progress from Rt. 44 up over the first ridge and down again. He estimated he was now somewhere just inside the Natchaug State Forest boundary. He got out his red pen and marked an X on the map for his current location. He checked his watch. 1:11 p.m. He wrote the time alongside the X. Before folding the map back up he charted the route ahead. It was basically more of the same. A stream here, a small pond there. He might even see some wildlife if he was lucky. Something to look forward to.
Even though he had been hiking for nearly two hours, he wasn't really hungry. He tended not to eat when exerting himself. But he figured he should eat something before continuing on. He dipped into his food supply.
In a large plastic zip bag stowed at the top of his backpack were half a dozen energy bars, four juice boxes, two cans of mixed fruit and two cans of tuna, a thigh and a couple drumsticks of chicken kept cold in a insulated pack (he would have to eat that tonight, he reminded himself), a small jar of peanut butter, and some crackers stuffed in a tube-like Tupperware container so they wouldn't get crushed. He grabbed an energy bar and a juice box and sealed the rest back up in his pack. He sat enjoying the smells on the warm summer air, listening to the ever-present hum overhead, which was now an almost inaudible ohm-like static, like the soft shush of the breeze, the buzz of summer insects, or the subtle arpeggios of birdsong. But, as he sat enjoying his meal, a harsh noise cut through the relative quiet. A rattling rise and fall grew in intensity. It sounded like twin chainsaws approaching, but Ethan soon recognized the familiar sound.
Two trail bikes appeared from out of the woods ahead. One of the riders wore red, while the other wore blue. The two intentionally rode up and over a couple of dirt mounds, then wove through the wild blueberry shrubs and high grass. They didn't see Ethan until they were almost past him. Ethan waved and they pulled up alongside, shut their bikes off and removed their helmets.
They were just a couple of teens riding the trails. The one in blue had long dark hair parted in the middle and tucked behind his ears. The one in red was cleaner cut.
"Dude, what are you doing out here, collecting samples?" said the long-haired rider.
"No, just hiking," said Ethan.
"Hiking?" It appeared the teen couldn't imagine using his legs to travel any distance farther than from the front door of his house to the bus stop. "Hiking where? My name's Robby, by the way, and this is my bud, Cody." He hooked a thumb in his friend's direction.
Ethan introduced himself. "I'm actually following these power lines until they reach I-84 in Mass."
"Wow, that's some serious hiking, dude," said the one named Robby, his eyes growing large.
"Why did you ask if I was collecting samples? Have you seen people out here doing that?" The last thing Ethan wanted was to run into anyone working for the State.
"No, but you'd think with all the EMF and the EMR and the ELF they'd want to keep an eye on what it's doing."
Cody turned to Robby and said, "Dude, he doesn't care about that stuff."
"Well, he should care if he's going to be out here for more than like...an hour."
Ethan thought he must have looked confused because Cody turned to him and said, "Don't listen to him. Robby thinks the power lines mess with your head if you stay under them for too long."
"Think? Dude, I know. It's all over the internet. The electro-magnetic field these power lines generate can light up a fluorescent tube held in your bare hand. Imagine what it can do to your brain chemistry."
"That's not true is it?" said Cody, who appeared as stunned by the claim as Ethan.
"Dude, it's so true. I saw it on Myth Busters."
"Awesome. We have to try that some day."
"Dude, we so have to."
Robby looked up at the lines as if they were evil entities and put his helmet back on. He turned to Ethan. "Just be careful, man, that's all I'm saying."
Ethan didn't quite know what to make of these two kids. "Okay, I will. Thanks."
Ethan waved as the two teens left, their trail bikes jumping hillocks and large stones until finally ducking back into the woods.
With his thirst now quenched and his hunger abated, Ethan hoisted his backpack on and continued walking.
He pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open. He watched the little rotating antenna dish icon search for a signal. Roaming...roaming... Nothing.
Ethan stuffed the phone back into his pack.
What's the worst that could happen? he asked himself.
You could break a leg.
You could be attacked by a bear.
He didn't really think that was possible. Sightings of bears were rare in Connecticut, let alone attacks by one.
Coyote?
Nothing but a skinny dog.
How about a rabid raccoon?
Now you're reaching.
Ethan laughed.
He did however step off the trail briefly to snap off a sturdy length of dried ash to use as a walking stick, and a weapon if need be. He held the staff up to the power lines.
He was now Moses parting the sea of trees.
6
The Recreation Room.
Pike smiled every time he read the placard on the room's door. Recreation. He believed he was quite clever for having thought of it.
The Recreation Room was the last of the four rooms that branched off the central control room. It was far from the typical recreation room. Instead of a pool table or dartboard or video game consoles, there were racks of electronic equipment pressed up against the walls — oscillators, modulators, and powerstats. A double row of clean white tables ran down the middle of the floor. Topping these tables were a series of specially-designed plexiglass cages. This was Pike's own private sanctum. His sanctum within a sanctum. Here he performed his own research, independent from the research the government required. A thin white curtain hung from the ceiling at the back of the room, separating it from the rest, the shapes of what lay behind it diffused into shadows.
Pike walked slowly past the first row of cages; a subtle hum emanated from each. The cages were home to either a large white rat or a white rabbit. Pike liked the white on white aesthetic; it lent a pure, futuristic aura to his work.
Pink eyes stared at him as he stopped before each cage. He checked their charts. Their birth dates had become more and more remarkable as the days progressed. He wondered if his test subjects had even an inkling of just how special they were. The coils built into the base and cover of each cage produced a pulsed electromagnetic field that continually cleansed their systems of impurities, removing the microbial and viral thieves that would have normally robbed their health and left them vulnerable to disease and aging.
Pike smiled, pleased with his work. But the smile quickly faded; there was still much work to be done. Extending a test subject's life expectancy was only the first step. His ultimate goal was much more ambitious.
He continued on to the back of the room and slipped between a part in the thin curtain. Here sat a much larger plexiglass enclosure. The six feet long enclosure was approximately two feet high by three feet wide, and rested on a metallic base a foot high. He placed his hands on the enclosure's surface. The hairs on his knuckles and wrists rose. Inside the enclosure a layer of moisturizing mist rolled and swirled. Pike stared at his most special test subject.
Like a modern day sarcophagus, the enclosure housed a body. The body was naked, still, and beautiful — as beautiful as a woman dead for nearly a year could be.
&nb
sp; The mist undulated sensuously across the hills and valleys of her body, revealing her mouth and neck, exposing a breast, the pond of her navel, the crease of her vulva, and the long smooth plane of her thigh.
Pike's heart squeezed in his chest and current of sexual energy awakened his loins. He reached underneath his lab coat and began stroking his manhood. He fantasized about the day when he could remove the enclosure and he and this woodland angel would at last meet.
7
The Richmond Fourth of July Extravaganza was now fully underway. Most of the expected guests had arrived. Some were already in the pool, taking advantage of the whirlpool massage; others were gathered around the food tables in conversation, using celery sticks to emphasize their points; and still others managed to break away to tour the rose garden or walk the stone dust trail that circled the pond. The late afternoon sun had at last dipped below the treetops, bringing a welcome relief to the ninety-plus temperature. Elizabeth Richmond, dressed in a casual yet expensive-looking floral summer wrap and sandals, flitted from one group to the next, a glass of white wine never absent from her hand. All the while piano music, pumped from the house through speakers mounted above the patio and positioned near the lawn canopy, provided a lazy cabaret backdrop. But the party had grown a little too quiet, the music a little too stale, so Mrs. Richmond hurried inside and reemerged to the sound of K.C. and the Sunshine Band's, "Get Down Tonight." The choice of music was greeted with enthusiastic applause as most of the guests were teens when the song first debuted on the radio; some even began dancing spontaneously, attempting the Bump, and a brave few, showed off with the classic moves of the Robot.
"Oh, God, here we go. It's '70s night at the Richmond's."
Lindsey and her three friends lay side-by-side on matching chaise lounges by the pool.
"I think your mom is pretty cool," said Kirsty, her skin looking more red than tan.
"Yeah, Linds, it could be worse," said Hayley. "It could be '80s music."
"Or Country," added Kirsty.
That woke up Saga. "Hey, I like Country. That Keith Urban is a hottie."
"Speaking of hotties, who's the hottie who just walked in?"
All eyes looked in the same direction as Hayley. Lindsey squinted. She recognized the older couple standing with the young man as Mr. and Mrs. Whitford. "Jared Whitford?" she said. She didn't mean it as an answer to Hayley's question. She just couldn't believe that her mother would stoop to this.
"You know him?" said Hayley, sounding jealous already.
"We dated in high school. He was total jerk."
Lindsey watched her mother rush over to greet Mr. and Mrs. Whitford, who continued on to the food canopy. Her mother then grabbed Jared's arm and personally escorted him to the pool.
"Oh...my...God. Is he coming this way?" Hayley held up her cell phone like a mirror and checked her hair.
"Mine," said Kirsty, straightening her bikini top.
"I saw him first, bitch," said Hayley, snapping her cell phone shut.
"Ladies, please. No fighting. He clearly wants me," said Saga, rolling her eyes and feigning supermodel status.
They all laughed and settled back onto their chaises and tried to act oblivious. All except Lindsey. She knew what her mother was up to. Her mother led the young man through the pool gate.
"Lindsey, I'd like you to meet someone. You remember Jared Whitford."
"Hello, Lindsey."
"Hello." Lindsey kept her tone neutral.
"Hey...Hi...Who's your daddy..." came the trio of responses from Hayley, Saga and Kirsty respectively.
"Isn't she beautiful?" Mrs. Richmond sounded like a realtor selling a particular stubborn piece of property to a prospective client.
Jared was well-groomed, well-mannered, and attractively fit — everything one would expect from a young man who had been privately-schooled, spent his summers in Europe, and never worked a day in his life. Lindsey glared at her mother and her mother just smiled.
For the sake of Lindsey's friends, her mother added, "Jared's father owns Whitford World Auto in Glastonbury, the leading Mercedes, Porsche, and BMW dealer in the State."
"Wow...Nice...Hubba hubba..." Again, Hayley, Saga and Kirsty added their three cents.
The baseline from "Rock the Boat" by the Hughes Corporation filled the air. Mrs. Richmond began moving her hips. "I love this song. You don't mind if I leave Jared here with you, do you, honey? Good, gotta run. Happy, happy."
"No, we don't mind," said Kirsty. Hayley nudged her.
Jared tried not to appear stranded.
"You'll have to excuse my mother," said Lindsey. "She's always trying to orchestrate things."
"No, that's perfectly alright. I don't mind being used as a pawn in other people's games."
He rolled his eyes and Lindsey laughed.
"See, at least I'm good for a laugh," he said. "So, can I hang with you guys?"
"Yes, he can hang," said Kirsty.
"Did you bring your swim trunks?" asked Hayley.
Jared grinned, kicked off his sandals, and dropped his pants. Underneath was a pair of long blue trunks decorated with white sharks.
"Duh-duh, duh-duh, duh-duh, duh-duh..." Saga imitated the music from the movie Jaws.
"Those will do," said Hayley.
Lindsey hoped her face wasn't visibly red.
She thought about Ethan hiking through the wilderness, sweat soaked and dirty, and alone. A pang of guilt ran through her. It was Ethan's choice not to be with her this weekend, she told herself. She wanted to be the understanding girlfriend but some of the things her mother had said were now burrowing into her thoughts. She didn't like to admit that her mother was right. So, for now, she wouldn't.
8
Dr. Pike stood before the Pit #3 monitor.
"No visible signs of discomfort. No abnormal behaviors, aside from those typical for a newly caged animal."
He stared at the cougar, waiting. He manipulated the camera to zoom in on the animal's tawny physique, looking for muscle twitches or palsy at the extremities. Nothing. Not even drool.
"Subject is so far unaffected. Increasing amplitude to 2.0."
He adjusted the setting and made his final note of the day. He turned to his companion.
"The brain is a magnificent machine, Wolf. Too little stress and the effects are minimal. Too much and, like a pot of boiling water that continues to spill over even when removed from the burner, the effects can be catastrophic. There is something in the brain that simply breaks and, once that occurs, there is no going back."
Pike stared at the monitor.
"She's a strong girl, Wolf. Let's hope not too strong." Pike motioned toward the kennel door. "Time for bed."
Wolf turned and padded into the open kennel. "Goodnight, Wolf." Pike shut the door. The keyless lock automatically engaged.
Pike retired to his bedroom.
Pike's bedroom was also his study. Opposite the bed sat a desk with a flat-screen monitor. There were bookshelves above the desk and on both sides. On the shelves sat a who's who of scientific works: Maxwell's Treatise on Electricity and Magnetism Vol. I & II; Faraday's Experimental Researches in Electricity; The Medical and Surgical Uses of Electricity by Beard and Rockwell; The Spark of Life: Electricity and Regeneration by Jonathan M.W. Slack. There was even an unmarked volume bound by a government printing press with the word TESLA handwritten across its spine. There were volumes on biomagnetism, magnetic field energies, and other disciplines; also dozens of handwritten journals and notebooks crammed into every available space.
Pike flipped the switch on the broadband internet modem plugged into the wall and sat before the monitor. A large-sized symbol of the illuminati lit up the screen. He clicked on a dragonfly-shaped icon. A text box opened up and he began typing.
Milk.
Hamburger.
Eggs.
He thought for a moment, then added Swedish Fish to the list and clicked OK. Another, smaller, text box opened up stating Message Sent.
/> The information Dr. Pike sent raced into the modem plugged into the wall. It was converted to AC low frequency signals, and shot out along a cable that ran outside under the ground, surfacing at the base of a nearby high tension pole. The cable carried the signals up the eighty-foot pole into the transformer at the top. From there it entered the power grid and anyone with the correct frequency, the correct filter, and the equipment to convert the signal could receive it. Anyone a mile away or three thousand miles away.
From the top of the high tension pole, the view was both magnificent and unassuming. Below lay a rocky terrain dotted with tufts of grass and gnarled shrubs. There was no indication that a government installation sat just below the surface of the ridge.
Five miles to the east a figure wearing a backpack and utilizing a walking stick moved along the steepening trail.
9
Ethan hiked with the singular focus of a marine on a twenty-mile march. Hunger once again gnawed at his stomach. The muscles on the top part of his thighs felt deadened. His calves burned whenever he stepped up and over a log or onto a large rock. And the trail was only getting tougher. But when he thought about stopping, he thought of his brother. He could still picture James before he left for Iraq, all cocky and full of patriotism. Ethan remembered thinking if anyone could navigate his way through a war, it would be his brother James, who had gotten into more than his share of scrapes on the streets of Willimantic. "Stay out of trouble. And take care of Mom while I'm gone," James had said. They had pounded fists then. Ethan remembered being happy that his brother had found a way out.