Midnight Zone: a Cade Rearden Thriller

by JK Franks

  Was the monster out there waiting for him? Could he even explain what had happened? No one would believe the thing he saw; he didn’t even believe it. If it had been hovering in the sky, there would at least be a word for it. A UFO, but underwater...what in the hell did you call those?

  24

  The tide was going out, Kissa knew that it was time to get moving. If the ‘beast’ had wanted to take him, it had plenty of opportunity. Still, something nagged at him, something he’d overlooked. Kissa was a methodical man. Like most divers, he was a creature of habit and routine. Check your gear, then check it again. It was how you stayed alive out here. He felt sure, though, he was leaving something overlooked. Thera was gone. That had to be all it was. She had been his world, but he was doing her no good out here. He needed help and finally thought he knew who to ask.

  He tossed the gear bag in, then pushed the heavy boat into the light surf. He let the incoming waves do the heavy lifting for him, timing his push to coincide with the wave. A lifetime around boats and the ocean caused his actions to be instinctual. It was just one more instance of how you did things. Be in balance with nature, not fighting against it. As the boat bobbed in the water, he climbed aboard and lowered the engine back into the water.

  ‘Nature,’ that was what had pushed Kissa out here. It was what carried him through college, then post grad studies. At some point, he would go for his doctorate in marine biology, but he was in no rush. He and Thera both loved studying the ever-changing ocean life. She had been the spark that ignited the fire in him. After his term in the Army was up, he needed an outlet, something to take his mind off the violence, the deaths, the killing. She started taking him on her diving trips, eventually getting him certified for open-water and the tougher adventure diving rating.

  Tears clouded his eyes as the salt spray kept blowing back from the bouncing bow. He refused to look around at the receding island or the place where he’d lost her. He tried to make peace with the fact that she probably would have preferred to meet her end out here, but that didn’t bring him any comfort. Whatever had killed her was still around. Kissa was not a man ruled by fear; a past like his own didn’t allow for that, but what he’d seen had made him feel weak, powerless even. Even as he pushed the boat across the open sea, he wanted to glance behind. Was there a dark shape pursuing him just below the water? Was that a bright light rising from the depths ahead?

  It took four hours and most of his remaining fuel and nerves for Kissa to reach the small island of Cayo Cochinos. The island had nothing on it but an old dock and repair yard for local boats. A hurricane a decade earlier had stripped the siding from the repair shop and the other buildings. Kissa knew the island well. He kept an extra supply of fuel hidden away there, and it was useful for one other reason.

  He tied off the dive boat and unsteadily climbed the rusty metal ladder to the dock. Damaged boat hulls, engine parts, chains, and tools lay scattered around the repair yard. He crossed the sandy ground to the remnants of the shop. Large metal beams rose out of a cracked concrete floor to a roof that was more missing than present. Rusty sheets of tin were peeled back along the roof like an onion skin. Metal pails held the remnants of a lifetime of repair jobs, nuts and bolts all rusted into a single mass. Buckets of viscous, tar-like grease, with a variety of insects and assorted bird feathers embedded in it. More chains, wooden blocks, and less identifiable parts.

  At the far end of the shop, a set of metal stairs led up to what was an elevated office and parts room. Kissa’s bare feet climbed the rusty steps, the metal treads cutting into his feet with each step. Nearing the landing, he looked northward and could just make out Ragged Key. The one other advantage of this island was, if you could get high enough, it was close enough to Utilla to sometimes get a cell phone signal.

  Hours later, Kissa nearly threw his phone onto the slabs of limestone rocks far below. He’d called every place he knew trying to find his old friends. Admittedly, the numbers he had for them were years old. Maybe they hadn’t made it through The Troubles, he didn’t know. Finally, he’d gotten someone at Veterans Affairs where he’d waited on hold for a near eternity, only to learn that one of his friends was listed as killed in action on a training mission the previous year. Shit!

  He sat back in frustration; he’d fought to keep thoughts of Thera out of his head. He simply couldn’t do anything with that. Maybe she was dead, maybe the thing took her. He wasn’t sure which of those might be better. He made one more call, a hotline number the VA had offered. He left his information and the little he knew about the Army sergeant he was looking for, then disconnected.

  From his daypack, Kissa removed a small black plastic case. It unfolded into a mini solar panel into which he plugged his phone, which was close to dead. He also retrieved his last bottle of water. It was warm and tasted of plastic. He leaned back, wishing desperately that it was a nice cold beer instead. He couldn’t stay here much longer. He and Thera hadn’t brought supplies for an extended trip, just the essentials. Going back home would mean questions, possibly from the police. He knew he had to at some point, but wanted to have a plan before then. If the Americans couldn’t help, who else could he call? He lay back on the metal platform and closed his eyes, not daring to think about what was to come.

  He awoke later to the trilling sound coming from his phone. “Yes, hello?” he answered, in near panic.

  “You were looking for Sergeant Charlie Taylor or Captain Cade Rearden?” the female voice asked in flawless Spanish.

  “Si, yes, yes.” Captain, he thought. Rearden must have been promoted before he was killed. “They were Rangers. Both with the 75th Regiment, I believe. It was many years ago. I was told that the…um captain lost his life last year. I am very sorry to hear that; I was hoping one of them possibly could help.”

  The woman seemed like a typical military type, not really wanting to waste time on small talk. “You are calling from a small island in the Caribbean?”

  Kissa’s panic began to rise; he suddenly feared he’d made a huge mistake. Someone in the Honduran military intelligence must have intercepted his calls. They had tracked him; they would send people to bring him in to see what was so important for him to tell the Americans.

  As if reading his silent panic, the voice said calmly, “We are not with your government or police. Can you tell me what the nature of your problem is and why you feel these men could be of help?”

  Kissa’s shoulders sagged, his heart was racing, and he had no idea if the woman was being honest, but felt he had nothing to lose at this point. He told her everything. She asked a few very intelligent questions but mostly stayed silent while he talked.

  “I have your information, if your story has merit, I will be back in touch later today.”

  “Um, thank…thank you, thank you so much,” he stuttered, unsure of whether to be relieved or even more worried.

  “Can I ask your name, maybe who you are with?”

  “I am Doris.” The line went dead.

  25

  Antarctica

  The flight from Chile took over four hours because of weather along the Drake Passage. The BAe 146 followed the west side of the Antarctic Peninsula. The flight was the worst he’d ever been on. The wild turbulence and random air pockets made the trip seem more like a roller coaster than normal transportation. Cade watched as a ridge of peaks appeared.

  “Ellsworth Mountains,” Alan said pointedly. “We will fly right up the spine of ‘em.”

  Cade should have known the kid would have all the geography already committed to memory.

  “We’ll land on an ice runway on Union Glacier. Riley has a shuttle to get us over to the base camp.”

  “Ice runway?” Cade asked. “Two words that should never be said together, in my opinion.”

  Alan continued, “The flight toward the pole is all dependent on the weather. It would normally be a four or five-hour trip. There is a permanently manned base at the pole, Amundsen-Scott Station, but since we aren’t
going all the way, we won’t visit them. Our cover is a seismology research group from California. You should get a ReLoad boost, so you can sound somewhat knowledgeable.”

  “Who in the fuck are we going to run into down there that might quiz me about earthquakes?” Cade asked. “I’ll just say I’m security—basically the truth anyway.“ Cade knew their destination was somewhere in the mountains between base camp and the pole. Looking down at the endless brilliant expanse of snow and ice they were heading into, he wondered again if this was just him being crazy or if there were a real purpose.

  Cade stomped his feet; he couldn’t seem to get close enough to the heat radiating from the gas stove. Landing hours earlier on the ice had been as frightening as he’d feared, but exiting into the extreme cold and howling wind defied even his worst expectations. “This is summer?” he asked to others nearby. The dozen individuals looked at the recent arrivals with what seemed a mixture of pity and amusement.

  “Drink this, Rearden,” Alex said, handing him a bottled water.

  “Not th… th… thirsty, Cutter,” he said fighting to keep his teeth from chattering.

  “Drink it,” she ordered. As the unit’s medic, she made the calls on this. “Despite what you think, Antarctica is a desert—one of the driest places on Earth in fact. Some places here haven’t seen rain or snow in two million years.”

  His gloved hands grasped the bottle and downed the icy liquid. Obviously, Alex had gotten the uploaded Antarctic briefing. Now she was just a fountain of fun facts. How long are we staying here? Do we have to go back out there? Um, this place sucks. Cade had trouble distinguishing between his own thoughts and those from his other ‘travelers.’ “Shit, we’re all miserable,” he said aloud. They’d been in Antarctica for less than three hours. Somehow, the fact that this had been his idea made it even worse. That fucking Samuel better not have been lying about this shit, he thought.

  “Helos are grounded, Rearden,” McTee said in frustration. “Every damn thing on this continent depends on the weather.”

  “Clock is ticking—I don’t think we have time to waste. What are our other options?” Cade asked.

  Doris answered, surprising them both, “I can arrange for two tracked vehicles. What would be about three hours by air will take a minimum of two days by ground.”

  “But we would be less dependent on the locals and the weather, right?”

  “Affirmative, Captain.”

  “How confident are you that you can navigate us safely to the coordinates Guardian supplied?”

  She didn’t respond immediately. Cade had gotten used to this; Doris liked to be precise, so she was undoubtedly looking at all parameters, risks, team dynamics…probably factoring in what they all had eaten for breakfast. “Navigating your vehicles to the spot I can do with near certainty. I am unable to compute the same odds on the reliability of the SnowCats, nor will I be able to foresee all the terrain hazards. My confidence on all factors is about 76%.”

  “About?” Cade asked, surprised. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

  “I have discovered that giving the specific and more accurate percentage doesn’t elicit a more positive reaction from humans. Unless I am having discussions involving finances. Then, it does seem to matter a great deal.”

  “Smith and I can check out the transports, make sure they’re mechanically sound,” McTee said. “What terrain issues are you uncertain of?”

  “Crevasses,” she said at once. “Hidden ice cracks primarily. The average depth of ice on the continent is one mile. Some crevasses are quite deep and can have a layer of snow and ice covering them at the surface. I believe I can modify the LIDAR system on the satellites to help identify the worst ones.”

  “Lovely,” Cade said.

  “Yes, some of the terrain features in Antarctica are considered extremely beautiful.”

  “He was being sarcastic, Doris,” McTee said.

  “Oh,” she responded, a bit embarrassed.

  The group loaded the last of the gear onto the MARs-1HMMWV. The team’s two gear-heads had checked out the tracked behemoths and declared them to be in excellent shape. It was an ugly thing, the front end and drivetrain of a military grade Humvee, but with what looked like an enormous motorhome attached to its back. Instead of wheels, it had a track assembly where wheels would have been, and the entire thing pulled a supply trailer.

  “Damn thing will pull anything, go anywhere almost,” the man who’d delivered the two trucks said with a distinct Australian accent. “Sorry, pal, name’s Judah…Judah Wilson. These are my babies.”

  “Thanks, Judah,” Cade said genuinely. Doris had somehow acquired the transportation quickly. “My team really appreciates it. We have a brief window to get all of our work here done.”

  The man eyed Cade a bit suspiciously. “Your work…yeah.” He then let out a deep laugh. “Scientists.”

  It sounded more like a question than a statement. Cade decided to just ignore it.

  Judah leaned in, a smile plastered across his face, “Look, mate, you are soldiers, maybe adventure-seekers, plain for everyone to see. Believe me, we know what research teams look like and—well, you damn sure ain’t it.” The man backed away a few steps and put his hand up. “Totally your business, though, for what your boss lady paid for these trucks, you can do what ya want.”

  Cade idly wondered if Doris had simply bought the massive transports instead of renting them. “What’s the range on these?”

  “Unlimited, as long as you have fuel. Extra-large tanks are good for about 700 kilometers, and I have two spare drums in the trailer. Diesel, of course, but the spare fuel must be kept somewhat warm, or it will be useless to you.” The man eyed Cade once again. “Look, friend, Antarctica is not some tiny island, damn thing is fifty percent larger than the U.S. From here to Amundsen at the pole is the equivalent of driving from California to Denver. Are you sure you and your team are ready for that? Believe me, this place will do it’s best to kill you.”

  Cade didn’t dismiss the man’s warning, “We aren’t going to the pole.”

  “Doesn’t matter—McMurdo, Erebus, anywhere really. Once you leave here, it is all going to look exactly the same.” The older man smiled and added, “I would be willing to help you out. I know this place. Been here ‘bout half my life.”

  Cade thought about it as he got another one of the odd sensations that something was a bit hinky. Always hard as fuck for him to know if it was one of his other ‘travelers’ just stirring in his sleep or maybe an actual something. He ignored Judah and scanned the small compound. No real place for anyone to be hiding. If it wasn’t stark snow white, it was a closed building. Those had no windows and as few doors as possible. A wintery draft here could be fatal. Still, his reptile mind registered the threat, even if he couldn’t see one. The paranoia didn’t seem to extend as far as the Aussie, though. Going against the original plan, he invited the man to come along as the lead driver. He also promised to sell the man the vehicles back once they were done for a very reasonable discount.

  “Doris.”

  “Yes, Captain?” was her always near-instant reply.

  “I assume Judah checks out. Can you run scans on all other occupants of this base camp?“

  “Judah is solid,” she answered. “Former commando in the Australian Defense Force. He’s been on the ice for almost twenty-seven years. I would not have contracted with him had there been any concerns. He has a bit of a predilection for gambling and drinking, but I am beginning to understand that is not rare among soldiers. I am running the rest of the camp now, but I see a problem.”

  “Talk to me,” Cade said as he looked through their supplies and then carried a small suitcase back toward the main lodge.

  “It will take some time to process facial recognition on everyone you and your team have encountered. That said, I have discovered a discrepancy between the camp’s arrival logs and the number of heat signatures showing up on scans. There is one person more than is registered in the c
heck-in logbook.”

  The itch along his spine began again. “How unusual would that be? I’d assume people come and go from here regularly.”

  Doris agreed. “They do, but this would still be highly irregular. You are in one of the least forgiving environments on Earth. No one ventures out without checking out and someone knowing when or if to expect them back. Standard safety protocols. Someone near you is choosing to ignore that. I suggest you watch your back, Captain.”

  26

  “Captain, are you in a position to speak freely?”

  Cade was caught off-guard. He was in the middle of putting on the skin-tight and highly advanced Rapide Battlesuit. They weren’t expecting combat, but Riley had suggested it was more than capable of protecting them from the harsh environment. The suits fit almost like a second skin, and once they were on, it was the single most comfortable garment he’d ever owned. Getting in and out of the son of a bitch was an entirely different matter, though. “Ye..es,” he gasped out as he rolled one massive thigh into the seemingly too small leg opening.

  “Your heart rate is elevated, and you seem to be in distress, are you sure this is a good time?”