Song of Ariel: A Blue Light Thriller (Book 2) (Blue Light Series)

by Mark Edward Hall

  “No way.”

  “Yes way. You’re going to need me down there.”

  “How do you know what we’re doing?”

  “Ariel asked me to come.”

  “What? When?” Doug said alarmed.

  “Don’t worry, she’s still sleeping. She told me in her dreams. She knows more about what’s going on here than any of us do. Trust me when I say that kid has it together. I’ve been lying awake waiting for you guys to go by. I woke Laura. She and Danny are going to stand by and make sure things are copasetic topside.”

  “What do you think of Randal and the woman?” Jennings asked Eli.

  Eli was thoughtful for a moment. “I don’t know. I like them okay, but I’m not sure I trust them. There’s something about Nadia that bothers me. I don’t think we heard the whole truth last night.”

  Jennings turned to Doug.

  “She saved my life,” Doug said. “I owe her for that. But as you know, she was never totally honest with me. Her organization has an agenda, and whatever it is she’s loyal to that first and foremost.”

  “Yeah, that’s the way I see it too.”

  “But let’s get something straight,” Doug said. “I know her well enough to believe she would never harm Ariel.”

  Jennings nodded. “I hope you’re right.”

  “You think I’d be down here if I didn’t?”

  “Laura’s an exceptional cop,” Jennings said. “I trust her to keep a close eye on things.”

  Eli pulled something from his pocket.

  Jennings played the beam of his flashlight over it trying to figure out what it was. “What you got there?”

  “Dr. Randal’s com unit. Nadia has one. They don’t need two.”

  “Give me that thing,” Jennings said.

  Eli handed it over. “These things are supposed to be high tech. Maybe they’ll work underground. Might be a way to keep tabs on what’s happening topside.”

  “Good thinking, Eli, but I doubt they’ll work down there.”

  “Figured it was worth a try.”

  Doug gazed suspiciously at Eli. “Why did Ariel ask you to come?”

  “Because there’s something only I can do.”

  “What?”

  “There’s something down there she needs.”

  Doug frowned. “Yeah, I know.”

  “Listen,” Eli said. “Picking shit up in dreams is a little weird but it’s something I do. Don’t know why. Maybe it came from my early experience with the Blue Light. In any case, I need to be there.”

  Jennings shot a glance at Doug.

  Doug’s face clouded with concern. “She could have asked me.”

  “She knows how much you love her,” Eli said. “And she loves you more than anything. That’s why she sent me. She couldn’t count on you to be objective. Time is short and she knows it. There’s no room for error. All the pieces have to fall in place perfectly or the plan won’t work.”

  “What plan?” Jennings asked.

  “I don’t know, Christ, I only pick up bits and pieces. I’m afraid Ariel is the only one who knows the answer to that. We’re her support team, and if we fail her, she fails.”

  Without another word the three men fell in step and moved further down into the earth.

  CHAPTER 19

  Maxwell Air Force Base, Montgomery, Alabama July 5th.

  The giant C-5 Galaxy transport plane lifted into the sky like a kite on a string. Jason, Danielle, Charlee and Slim were strapped into mesh seats that were arranged in rows as an ordinary airliner would be, excepting the comfort factor. Nylon mesh seats weren’t exactly designed for comfort, but they were functional and used by most large military troop transports. There were no windows in cargo aircraft, just rows of closed overhead compartments where the windows in passenger aircraft would normally be. Jason and Slim were familiar with this sort of transportation, having both served extensive overseas military tours. Although Jason had flown in several of these exact aircraft he had never seen one laid out in quite this manner. Ordinarily the entire interior of the massive jet would be open in order to accommodate large scale equipment such as helicopters, tanks and artillery pieces. However, the aft section of this jet—which is where they were seated—was walled off just ahead of where they sat. The wall contained one door which was located about center. Jason kept looking at the door, wondering if it was locked; wondering if they were prisoners, wondering if he’d made a terrible mistake agreeing to any of this. They’d given up their weapons back in the tobacco field. Although Jason had resisted, it was the only transportation available that might get them across the country in a matter of hours instead of days and bringing weapons on board hadn’t been negotiable.

  Charlee was confused, unsure about what had happened between the time she’d been shot and now. She remembered blowing a couple of those assholes away before deciding to make a run for it. She remembered the unbearable pain in her side as the bullet had torn through her, and the quick loss of consciousness that had followed. She remembered waking and realizing that Jason was carrying her, how warm and comfortable she’d felt in his arms, thinking that it would be an okay place to die. Following that, the entire episode had been rife with a confusing mix of dreams and reality, so much so that she didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t. Upon waking she’d been barraged with a whirlwind of frantic activity as they’d been loaded on a military helicopter by kind but efficient soldiers, being told there wasn’t much time left. Then the landing at the airbase and boarding this giant of a jet. Several times since leaving that scorching hot tobacco field she had reached down and felt the scars where the bullet had ripped through her body, and wondered what sort of magic could heal a bullet wound so quickly. She sighed, sat back in her seat and closed her eyes, suddenly feeling extraordinarily tired.

  Jason looked at his watch. Almost three hours had passed since they’d taken off from Maxwell Air Force Base and in all that time they had not seen another living soul. He was getting antsy. He’d had time to scope out the interior of this section of aircraft, which was at the very aft of the plane near the giant drop down cargo door. Slim was dozing and Charlee was sleeping soundly. He and Danielle had been talking quietly, hoping there were no listening bugs close enough to pick up their conversation.

  Slim stirred in his sleep and began to mumble. Jason and Danielle both looked over at him. “It’s a tube,” Slim said. “Damned straight it is … goes all the way up. Now ain’t that the sweetest thing you ever did see.” Slim stopped talking and fell into a soft, rhythmic breathing.

  After a while Jason got up and began rifling through compartments. He found maintenance manuals, bungies and nylon straps for tying down cargo. Everything but what he needed. Further searching led to a trap door in the floor behind the rows of seats. Jason looked carefully at the door before turning the latch and lifting it. He found what he was looking for there. He closed the door and went back to his seat. He spent the next ten minutes giving Danielle detailed instructions.

  Charlee came awake suddenly, stretched, yawned and said, “I’m hungry.”

  “Me too,” echoed Danielle.

  Slim woke and said he had a bad taste in his mouth about this whole affair and didn’t care if he ate or not.

  Jason left his seat. “I’ll go forward, see if I can raise anyone.” He had no more than gotten up when the forward compartment door opened and an airman came in carrying a box full of MREs (Meals Ready to Eat) standard military combat rations. Jason had eaten his share of them. They weren’t great, but when you were hungry, they weren’t bad either. Jason accepted the offering and handed out rations along with bottles of cool, refreshing spring water. Everyone ate ravenously. Even Slim. As the airman headed back through the door Jason watched his every move carefully.

  Fifteen minutes after finishing their meals the same forward compartment door opened and a man dressed in civilian clothes emerged, followed by two armed guards. The guards took up station on either side of the door. The man
in civilian clothes approached them. He stepped in front of Jason and extended his hand. Jason observed the man. He was not very tall, but he was solid, and in obviously superior physical condition. He exuded a strength and confidence that belied his small stature. He was perhaps late forties. His hair was sandy colored and close cropped, his complexion mildly tanned. Jason took his hand.

  “I’m Zach Spencer, the person you spoke to on the phone.”

  “I guess you know who I am,” Jason said, then he introduced his three companions.

  “Pleasure,” Spencer said dismissively, turning his attention back to Jason. “You and I need to talk.”

  “What’s this about?” Jason asked. “Why are we here?”

  “You needed transportation. I provided it.”

  “How did you know about us?”

  “All your questions will be addressed in time.”

  “Not good enough.”

  “I’m afraid it will have to be, Colonel La Chance. I’ve read your personnel file, and I must say, I’m impressed.”

  Slim looked sharply at Jason. “Colonel! I thought you said you were a captain?”

  “He was until a short time ago,” Spencer replied. “Now I have something of the utmost urgency to discuss with him. Please follow me, Colonel La Chance.” Spencer turned and began making his way forward. When Jason did not follow, Spencer stopped and turned around.

  “Whatever you have to say you can say in front of these people,” Jason said.

  “Do I have to remind you that the United States is under a blanket of martial law?” Spencer said. “What I have to discuss with you is classified and your friends do not have the necessary clearances.”

  Still Jason did not move.

  “You are an Army Colonel, La Chance, and therefore have a responsibility to obey orders. Your companions are here strictly as a courtesy. We could have left them back in that tobacco field.”

  Jason’s eyes narrowed as he stared Spencer down. “If you’ve read my personnel file, as you say, then you know damn well there’s no way I would have allowed you to leave my friends behind. Let’s get something straight, Spencer. If you expect me to cooperate then you had better start treating us all with respect.”

  Jason felt Slim stiffen beside him. “You want I should bust his head for you, Boss?” Slim asked.

  The two armed soldiers lifted their weapons to the ready position.

  “No, Slim, you stay here with the ladies. I won’t be a minute.” He gave both Danielle’s and Charlee’s hands a squeeze before getting up and following Spencer toward the forward deck.

  The other side of the door was a hive of activity. The room was perhaps thirty feet in length and the entire width of the jumbo aircraft, both walls filled to the ceiling with flashing, beeping equipment, computer monitors and large screen televisions. Jason had seen rooms like this before. They were called war rooms. Men and women in military work uniforms occupied seats in front of multiple computer keyboards. All wore intense looks of concentration as they busied themselves entering and receiving data.

  Spencer led Jason to another closed door beyond the war room. It was an office which contained a desk on which sat several telephones, one of them red, which Jason surmised was a direct link to someone very important, perhaps even the president.

  Spencer indicated a seat for Jason and sat down behind the desk. “You need to be briefed on a number of issues,” Spencer said. “First, the plague.”

  “How did it start?” Jason asked.

  “A very well organized and powerful militia group broke into a top secret government lab in Utah and took it. These people are ruthless. They want the world as we know it to end.”

  “So much for the Patriot Act,” Jason said. “I thought you guys were on top of things.”

  Spencer glared at him. “Have you ever heard of the Dark Web?”

  Jason shook his head. “Does it have something to do with the internet?”

  “It’s a way for people who might not have the noblest of intentions to communicate without government scrutiny. The Dark Web specifically refers to a collection of websites that are publicly visible, but hide the IP addresses of the servers that run them. It is very difficult to find who is behind these sites. And you can’t find them using search engines. Almost all sites on the Dark Web hide their identity using the Tor encryption tool which incorporates very powerful end-user-hiding properties. ISIS uses it. Al-Qaeda uses it. A number of other foreign terror organizations use it.”

  “So it appears that domestic terrorist groups are also using it,” Jason said.

  “It would appear that way. The Dark Web is a government nightmare when it comes to terrorism concerns. This group has a unique ability to organize and inflame those who feel abandoned by their government: outsider groups, white supremacists, isolationists, religious fanatics, the general disenchanted. By the time we became aware of the group it was too late, this whole mess had been set in motion.”

  “Wow, that’s amazing,” Jason said. “How do you suppose they found out about the pathogen, or should I say the zombie plague?”

  Spencer smiled. “Zombie plague, huh?”

  “Well, what would you call it?”

  “It seems to make people more aggressive, true.”

  “That’s a gross understatement,” Jason said. “I’ve dealt with its effects first hand, and it does more than make people aggressive. It makes them stronger and more resilient. At least for a short time. Tell me, where did it come from?”

  “I told you it came from a government lab in—”

  “That’s not what I asked. I want to know where it originated.”

  “I’m afraid that’s classified.”

  “I thought you’d say that.”

  “The bad news is we have reason to believe it isn’t over,” Spencer said.

  “So it just took a little breather?” Jason said.

  “Apparently it’s in the process of mutating, becoming something else.”

  “What?”

  “We’ve only seen a few isolated cases.” Spencer halted, as if he was deciding whether or not to go on. “Too early to tell yet, but it’s not good. The important thing is everyone who was exposed to the original pathogen is in danger of infection, even if they didn’t catch it the first time around.”

  “That would mean—”

  “Correct. Everyone is vulnerable. Including the people on this plane.”

  “Who do you work for?” Jason asked.

  Spencer smiled without humor. “My, you are an inquisitive one, aren’t you?”

  Jason smiled back. “You seem to know a lot about me. Trust works both ways.”

  Spencer was silent for a long moment as if he was trying to decide what to do. Finally he said, “I work for an organization known simply as the Project. It has been around since World War II.”

  “Never heard of it,” Jason said.

  “Few have,” Spencer replied. “Technically it doesn’t exist.”

  Jason smiled. “Like area 51 doesn’t exist?”

  “Exactly. The Project evolved out of the Manhattan Project, put in place to protect the U.S. from its enemies. Then in 1947 an alien spacecraft was shot down near Roswell, New Mexico and suddenly we had to reevaluate what the word enemy meant.”

  “I know the story,” Jason said.

  “You don’t know anything,” Spencer shot back. “You’ve heard the spin, just like everyone else.”

  “Spin the government sanctioned.”

  Spencer smiled. “Of course.”

  “But there’s always a real story inside the spin,” Jason said.

  Spencer looked thoughtful. “What do you know about the real story?”

  Jason hesitated a moment wondering how close to the vest he should play his cards. In the end he decided to go for it. “Let’s see,” he said. “Three scientists. An alien survivor. Government sanctioned murder of a member of an alien species. Should I go on?”

  Spencer leaned forward in his seat, his
attention fully fixed on Jason. “Where did you get this information?”

  “I read it in a document.”

  “Where did this document come from?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say. It doesn’t matter anyway. The government has had the same document for more than sixty years. If what I read is to be believed those aliens meant us no harm.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “They were simply observing. We were the aggressors. I’d say we showed them our true colors.”

  “I don’t really owe you an explanation, La Chance, but there’s plenty you don’t know.”

  “I know the virus didn’t originate on this planet,” Jason said. “It was brought here not as weapon but as a deterrent. That species wanted to know what kind of stuff we were made of. They wanted to know if we were stupid enough to screw around with it, maybe use it on ourselves.”

  Spencer said nothing.

  Jason said, “I want to know why our government kept the truth about Roswell from the public.”

  “That’s what governments do.”

  “Right, but we’re a little beyond that now, don’t you think?”

  “It was classified for a number of very good reasons,” Spencer said.

  “I can’t think of any good reason to keep something like that secret for nearly seventy years,” Jason said. “But I can think of a dozen bad reasons. Let’s see, it goes something like this: ‘evidence of life elsewhere in the universe would destroy religion, and without religion chaos would ensue.’ That’s crap and you know it. Chaos has been ensuing for thousands of years because of religion. We all saw it on 9/11. I’ve seen it first hand in both Iraq and Afghanistan. And judging by what you just told me, radical Islam is just the tip of the iceberg. Perhaps you government types like keeping things stirred up. You know that evidence of intelligent life elsewhere would finally force the human race to see that we’re all the same, brothers and sisters who share a common heritage. But you guys don’t want that. Your bosses thrive and profit on keeping the masses in the dark.”