“Are we talking hotel staff?”
“No, they'd use one of their own cards. This card plugs into a decoder device the size of a cell phone. It probably popped off the cable while he was trying to get out. This is spy stuff...”
“Not a burglar, huh?”
Chase tossed it on the nightstand, “Nah, too high tech for this neck of the woods...” He wedged a chair under the door handle. “This is a military town. We're not military and we're not from around here. Maybe it was a security sweep.” He turned out the lights and peeked out the window at the truck. Everything appeared normal.
“Are you trying to make me feel better, or is that really what you think?”
He scanned the cars in the lot, all of them empty. “Uh-huh...”
“Nice ambiguous answer,” she remarked sarcastically, plopping onto the bed.
“It's the only one you're getting,” replied Chase, pulling the curtains shut. “You can go ahead and give Allie her food...”
■ ■ ■
A few hundred feet from Utah State Route 36, Chase pulled the pickup off the road onto the rough scrub along Utah State Route 199, the desert running right to the edge of the pavement. The morning sun peeked over the ridge behind them, scattered clouds creating a colorful play of light. They were trading one desolate two-lane road for another, with one difference; this one pointed them toward the mountains. “There's the start of the barbed wire fence...” Chase put the truck in park.
“Are you sure this is right?” asked Karen, swiveling around and scanning in all directions. “There's nothing here...” She pointed up the road, “I take that back, there's a tumbleweed crossing the road.”
“It's exactly where Dan's instructions said... he said to wait here.” Allie stuck her head between the seats and nudged Chase's arm.
“What are we waiting for..?”
Chase glanced over his shoulder when he caught the flash of blue and red light out of the corner of his eye, his stomach taking a rolling leap before balling up into a knot. “Ooh crap...”
Karen's eyes flicked out her window to the mirror on the door, “Oh God, what do we do?”
Chase swallowed hard. “Nothing, stay calm... Don't say anything unless he asks you a question. We're tourists...” He watched the Sheriff exit the cruiser and adjust his gear before reaching through the open window and pulling his cowboy hat off the dash, placing it on his head and adjusting it with a tug on the front of the brim. Chase caught that he was wearing cowboy boots and wondered if that was standard uniform out here.
“Mornin' folks,” he said leaning close, eying Allie. “Does he bite?”
“She,” corrected Chase. “And no,” he lied. “Did we do something wrong, officer?” The Shepherd watched the officer over her human's shoulder with interest.
“Not that I know of...” replied the Sheriff, lifting the brim of his hat with his index finger, looking in around the cab of the truck. “Mind if I see your license and registration?”
“Sure,” nodded Chase, fishing things out of his wallet and center console. Along with what was requested, he included his concealed weapons permit and instructor ID.
The Sheriff glanced at it briefly, handing it all back except the driver's license, “Don't need those. Where's your gear?”
“Back seat in our backpacks,” replied Chase without moving.
The officer straightened up with a curt nod, “Let's leave them back there for now, shall we?” With a polite smile he headed back for his cruiser.
“Was it me or was that a bit odd?” whispered Karen.
Staring in the rear view mirror, Chase was watching the officer in his cruiser, the door standing open, “Yeah, little bit.” A Jeep without top or doors drove past in the opposite direction, giving the scene only a casual glance.
“Here comes our boy...”
The officer strode up to the truck and leaned, handing Chase his license back, a piece of paper wrapped around it. “Y'all have a nice day,” he smiled, tipping his hat before heading back to his cruiser.
Chase checked his mirror and shot Karen a quick glance, “What the hell..?” Unwrapping the paper he realized it was a note; Brother: follow me but not too close. Turn right when I go Code 3, follow it to the end. He looked up as the cruiser pulled back onto the pavement, passing them, heading west on 199 without so much as a glance in their direction from the officer.
“I don't get it,” said Karen picking up the note as Chase put the truck in gear and pulled back onto the road.
“Dashcam video...”
“Like on the cop shows...”
“Yep. Most cops have dashcam video and mics on their uniforms. He probably couldn't say anything, he wanted it to look like a routine traffic stop.”
“What's this, Code 3?” she pointed at the note.
“Lights and siren.”
Karen sighed, “You'd think there would be an easier way to do all this...”
■ ■ ■
Ten miles later after winding through climbing narrow canyons and passes cut through the foot of the mountains, the Sheriff's cruiser pulled off into the dirt, his lights coming on, his siren wailing as he spun his cruiser in a semi circle using a controlled slide. He appeared out of a swirling cloud of dust, racing past them on the road in the opposite direction, his engine roaring.
Karen's head whipped around as she watched him scream past, “Holy shit he's flying... do you think he got a call and had to leave..?”
Chase steered the truck off the pavement in the same place the cruiser went off the road, a rutted sand and dirt trail angling up and away into an unseen canyon. “Nope, that's what Code 3 looks like. It's part of the show,” he pointed, “see there's our road...”
“That's not a road,” she argued. “That doesn't even qualify as a driveway. It looks like a wagon trail...”
The canyon walls rose up on either side blocking out the early morning sun, the narrow track winding its way left and right, up and down. “This is kinda creepy... are you sure we won't get stuck in here?”
Chase's mouth cocked crookedly, not so sure himself, “Four wheel drive, I hope not.” He caught a glimpse of the trail around a bend, climbing up the side of the mountain. “Oh hell no... this thing ain't going up that...”
Opening up into a small, cozy valley, a motor home, tents and dirt bikes populated the area, hidden under a sizable camouflage net, the trail reaching up beyond the camp. A young woman with long black hair braided past her waist, and golden skin waved them to a spot to park. An animal that looked like a mix of coyote and wolf appeared from one of the tents sidling up beside her.
“I have my dog,” called Chase, “Is your... is he animal friendly?”
“Yes,” replied the woman, approaching, “she's wonderful with other animals.” The woman extended her hand as Chase slid out of the truck, Allie climbing over the seat, eager to get out. “Hello, you must be Chase. I am; Two Dogs Fucking.” She shook his hand.
“Excuse me?”
“She grinned at her own humor. “Bad Indian joke...” she mused.
“You're Indian, then,” he replied, still off balance.
“You couldn't tell?” she smiled, her white teeth a contrast to her golden skin, a wide, colorful, beaded choker around her neck. “Shoshone...”
Karen made it around the front of the truck, extending her hand, “Karen...”
“Dancing Rain.”
“Oh, that's beautiful...”
“Thanks, just call me Rain,” she said with a casual wave. “Dan and Jesse took a couple of the dirt bikes to the top before dawn, they should be back for breakfast soon, you folks hungry?”
■ ■ ■
Dan Murphy, tanned and bearded, pushed away from the table under the shade of the camouflage net, his plate empty. “That was good, sweetie... it really hit the spot,” he remarked, rubbing his stomach. Rain kissed the top of his head as she moved past, picking up empty plates and silverware. Dan stroked his beard, “Man, that's quite an adventure you'
ve had, I'm glad you made it... Again, I'm really sorry to hear about Pam. I only remember meeting her the once but she seemed like a sweet girl.”
“Thanks,” nodded Karen.
Chase leaned forward, his elbows on the table, hands clasped. “So Dan, why are we here? What's going on?”
Dan leaned back, his hands laced behind his head in a long stretch. “Brother Chase...” he paused and eyed Karen.
Chase didn't so much as shift his eyes, “Karen, honey, would you mind helping Rain? Give us a few minutes?”
“Nothing doing,” she snapped. “I'm in this up to my eyeballs just like you. My life is on the line just like yours. I have a right to know what the hell is going on...”
“OK,” nodded Dan, leaning back in, “fair enough.” He accepted an open laptop handed him by Rain, setting it on the table. He shot Chase a glance, “She is bound by your oath, she is your responsibility, understand?”
“Understood,” agreed Chase.
“Good.” Dan brought the laptop out of sleep mode, “Ever heard of Project Zenith?”
“No...”
“How about Project Ascension?”
“No...”
Dan spun the laptop around so they could see the screen. “Alright, we have a lot of ground to cover... But before I show you that, you should know where you stand.”
“That might be good,” snipped Karen.
Dan ignored her attitude, understanding her angst. “The Brotherhood's Commandery has three divisions; the Watchers, the Guardians, and the Crusaders. We are the Watchers. Teams like ours all across the country gather information from people inside and outside the government loyal to the Order. The Guardians are tasked with protecting the people, the defenseless citizens. And the Crusaders are tasked with restoring order, restoring government...”
Karen's eyes were wide, “Are we talking about a revolution?”
“Hopefully it won't come to that,” replied Dan, shaking his head. “But the possibility is there. Thomas Jefferson said; The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.”
“That sure sounds like a revolution to me...”
Dan's eyes narrowed, “The people of this country need to awaken from the reality TV induced, self indulgent coma they've allowed themselves to be lulled into. People sit across the table from one another, transfixed by their technology, oblivious to everything around them, ignoring the truly meaningful warm blooded social interaction the human race craves. They've become zombies, replacing quality with quantity, so tied to their gadgets they are controlled by them. Yet they are so woefully uninformed it is staggering in scope. And the media has stopped doing their real job, which is being a government watchdog. They are complicit in the deceit and corruption.”
“Nothing new,” commented Chase, “it's been like that for years...”
“Has it?” Dan touched Rain's hand as she walked past, “Do we have any iced tea?” She nodded and headed into the RV, Dan turning back to the table. “Why do you think we went to digital TV instead of analog? To drive people to cable and satellite. Sure the signal quality is better but that's not the point. The point is that the government can more easily control cable and satellite. And while we all pay through the nose for our cell services, the government hands out free phones with free calling and free data to the low information voters. Like samples from a drug dealer to a crack whore.”
Rain placed glasses of iced tea on the table for each of them, “They want a nation of addicts...”
“And now they have it,” added Dan. “What do you suppose would happen if it all just suddenly... stopped? No TV. No radio. No internet. No cell service...”
Chase touched the beads of moisture forming on the sides of the glass, “Anarchy...”
“Control the information, control the people,” said Dan. “Kiss it all goodbye. Your rights are gone. You'll get what they decide you should have... martial law, complete and total government control...”
Chase watched the beads of moisture race down the glass, “But how? And why?”
“Enter the how...” Dan tapped the laptop keyboard, starting the video. “Project Zenith.” He took a sip of his iced tea. “You're watching a video we took early this morning, about 4:30, of Dugway which you can see from the top,” he thumbed over his shoulder at the peak of the ridge line. “That bright green flash and beam you're about to see...”
“Whoa!” Chase and Karen both snapped rigid.
“Yeah, they're testing that laser on debris in orbit. Remember that Russian reconnaissance satellite that came down in February..?”
“Yeah...”
Dan pointed at the screen, “Bang. Dead satellite. It was an old Russian spy rig our folks figured would be mistaken by the Ruskies as an age-failure thing. They didn't set to totally destroy it, just disable it with a narrower beam. All the evidence would burn up on reentry. It worked. The Russians might have suspicions, but if they did they didn't say anything. Because there was no proof. The unit fires from one of the hangars down there. The hangar roof opens and closes for operations. This one's a prototype, but there's a facility in Nevada called the National Security Device Facility, south of Area 51 in Groom Lake, that's building operational units for Navy ships and for the X-37B Spaceplane.”
“Alright... if that's the how, what's the why?”
“Global communications control. Everything,” waved Dan expansively. “The US would be the only country left with operational satellites, communications, GPS, etc. If they have any of those things mounted in our satellites they could kill ground radar and other important targets. Then we're talking global domination. Anywhere, anytime, no nukes... unless they're ours.”
The video complete, Chase sat back in his chair. “That's insane...”
“Yes it is...”
“It would take them days, maybe weeks to kill everything up there. The Russians wouldn't just sit around...”
“Reports we've seen say once all the units are deployed,” offered Rain from the RV's doorway, “Project Zenith would have them relatively blind and deaf in two hours or less. In twenty-four hours, the only satellites in orbit still functional would belong to the USA. And if they time the attack to some serious solar activity it might be long enough to cripple anything with offensive capabilities before they shake off the confusion.”
Chase waved his hands, “That's a big fucking if... No, I'm sorry this is all just too insane. We're talking World War III, here... Wait, then why all the military cutbacks on manpower and benefits?”
“They're going to convert to a conscript military,” shrugged Dan. “Fight a war, thin out the population a bit, no benefits to worry about... One of the reasons they don't care about the illegals coming over the border; they get those votes with the promise of free stuff and with a military draft they get free manpower.”
Karen had been silent, the prospect of it all so overwhelming. But there was something that seemed to be missing. “So how does all this tie in to us? I mean, why were we being stalked and shot at?”
“Ah,” nodded Dan. “Good question. As hard as all this has been to fathom, it all ties together. It seems our friend, Brother Jack, left a little device with his sister; an alien communications unit of some kind. What I read was that it was about the size of a laptop and the signal could reach and receive from deep space, in real time. So they want it bad. It makes all communications technology we have, look like a stone tablet and chisel by comparison. The group hunting you, hunting all of us, is the NSA. And they think Chase knows something about the unit, or maybe has one...”
Chase nearly spit out a swallow of iced tea, “Me? What the hell gave them that idea?”
“Probably your close relationship with the family.”
“Fuck me,” he muttered.
Dan took a swallow of his iced tea. “Here's another piece of the whole puzzle, a pretty important piece as far as I'm concerned; all the calls for repealing the Second Amendment, gun registrations, bans e
tc... are because they know they can't pull this off if the people are armed...” He stirred his iced tea. “It's also why the administration has been purging military leaders that won't walk lockstep with their ideology. They want military leaders that will follow orders; whether it be firing on American citizens or going along with a plan for world domination.”
“A hundred-forty-five dismissals by last count. Good people...” Tense, Chase's jaw muscles were working. “If the people would just wake their asses up!”
“I think that is actually happening,” offered Rain. “Did you see what's been happening in Nevada?”
Chase frowned... “No...”
“They've been on the road, Rain,” said Dan over his shoulder. He leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “The government is testing the waters, seeing how far they can push, how much they can get away with. Something they've been incrementally doing for years using the EPA, IRS and the Bureau of Land Management. The BLM has forced ranchers in this valley of Nevada off their lands and out of business. There's only one family left and the BLM has been in conflict with these people for over a decade. Suddenly it's urgent; they're claiming eminent domain, safety of an endangered species, he owes grazing fees or something...”
“For his own land?”
“Yeah, only the BLM claims it's not his land, it's theirs. Problem is not only are they running roughshod over him they're stepping all over the state's rights... If it's actually government land, it belongs to Nevada, not Washington. And the state has no argument with the rancher...”
“So what happened?”
“The BLM shows up with two hundred armed officers, helicopters, snipers and range hands to start confiscating this guy's cattle and take the land. They were threatening people, getting rough like schoolyard bullies, telling people they would arrest or shoot anyone who interferes...”
Karen was transfixed. “Jesus,” she breathed.
“But this time there was push back. This rancher, a tough old bird, asked for help. It went viral. In a couple of days there were almost two thousand citizens there to protest and protect him and his ranch, from all over the country. A fairly sizable portion of those people were armed.”
Wings of Steele 3: Revenge and Retribution Page 34