by Gina Ranalli
Jason hadn’t thought of that and it was a valid point. “I guess you’re right,” he replied, not bothering to keep the disappointment out of his voice. He felt like a little kid denied the chance to ride the rollercoaster.
“Of course I’m right, dude,” Chuck said. “I’m always right. If it wasn’t for me, you probably would have gotten yourself killed a long time ago. And then what? No band. No band, no chicks. No chicks, you might as well be dead anyway.”
Jason laughed, considering they were both still virgins. “Whatever you say, Chuckster.”
“So, are you gonna call the cops or what?”
Jason groaned. Dealing with cops was pretty much his least favorite thing to do besides dealing with the redneck bullies of the town.
“I guess so,” he said reluctantly.
“Cool, man. Call me back and let me know how it goes, and maybe if your folks don’t chain you in the basement, we’ll catch a flick later or something.”
“Right. Later, bro.”
He closed his phone and sat on his bed. He thought about the results the Internet search had brought up. He thought about moths.
PART 2
Chapter 17
ARLINGTON, VA
8:15 a.m.
In downtown Arlington, Virginia, at the corner of Quincy and Utah, Lucy Swanson parked her black Jetta and emerged from the car into a rainy, gray morning and inserted a special coin into the parking meter. The coin allowed her to remain in the spot indefinitely without obtaining a ticket. Very few people were granted such coins in the area, but Lucy was one of them.
She strode up the sidewalk, a black umbrella over her head, her open long black coat flapping behind her like a cape.
Approaching an apparent apartment building, she quickly glanced around to be certain she was not being observed by anyone and, once convinced, used a plastic ID card to swipe an electric panel hidden behind one of the eight mailboxes, only the one being a fake but all them bearing a false name, and when the tiny light flashed from red to green, she closed the false front and entered the building into a dim foyer that had seen better days.
Climbing a staircase, she shook off her umbrella and closed it.
The building was silent, giving the impression of abandonment, and her heels loudly echoed throughout. When she reached the second floor, she went straight to a door marked 42.
Again, she had to swipe her card and wait for clearance.
A soft click and she turned the knob and opened the door to a vast room with a high ceiling and large windows, though most of the shades were drawn.
There were exactly a dozen desks throughout the room, one of them hers, but she didn’t go to her own work area. Instead, she went to the only desk that was currently occupied by anyone.
Matthew Hogan, his back to the door, looked up from his computer screen at the sound of her footsteps. Swiveling his chair around to face her, he said, “What took you so long?”
Lucy checked her watch. “You called me twenty-two minutes ago.”
“Exactly.”
She rolled her eyes and took off her coat, tossing both it and the umbrella on the desk nearest Hogan’s. “What do we have?” she asked when she turned back to him.
He swung his monitor slightly so she could see it. “Something a little different for a change.”
Lucy’s eyes scanned the document, her face betraying no emotion whatsoever. When she was done, she looked at Hogan and arched an eyebrow.
“Fun, right?” He smiled crookedly and pushed up the wire-rimmed glasses that had slipped down his nose.
“You believe it’s real?”
He turned back to the computer and clicked the keyboard a few times, bringing up another document, which Swanson also read. After that, he pulled up recent news footage, which they watched and listened to together. When it was over, he asked, “Sound real to you?”
Grabbing a nearby chair, she rolled it over and sat down next to him. “Too many supposed witnesses,” she said. “At this point, the majority of them will just be repeating what they’ve heard the others say, probably to feel included.”
“Right, but there are only a few original witnesses.” He tapped the keyboard again and read aloud, “Regan Cross and Daniel Helpen sound reliable.”
Swanson made a face and scratched her neck. “Everyone at the scene of the ambulance attack, including the news crew, will have to be debriefed.” She paused, thoughtful for moment before adding, “It’ll be a major headache.”
He smiled again. “That’s why they pay us the big bucks.”
“We can’t do this all ourselves, Hogan. It will take days. Weeks, even.”
“We won’t do the debriefing, but we have to investigate. We need to find one of those things. Capture it, if possible.”
Swanson scoffed. “We can’t do that either.”
“Why not?”
She hesitated. “Okay, fine. How do you propose we do it?”
“No idea.”
Annoyed, she shook her head, but said, “When do we leave?”
“I’ve got Lemmon bringing in a cryptozoologist. They should be here soon.”
“Ah. A cryptozoologist. This should be interesting. Anyone we know?”
“I’ve never met her, but I’ve always wanted to. Dr. Colleen Quirk. You’ve heard of her?”
“Not that I’m aware of, but you’re always better at keeping up on these things than I am.”
“She’s been retired for years.”
“How many years?”
Hogan thought. “Nine or ten, I guess.”
“She’s not going to be very happy with us, is she?”
“Probably not.”
As if on cue, the outer door clicked and in walked Special Agent Lemmon, accompanied by a small, older woman with short, graying hair. The woman wore loose-fitting beige slacks and a colorful wool poncho. A large, brown leather satchel crossed over her chest by a strap and hung low against her right hip.
Both Swanson and Hogan stood up.
Lemmon gave them curt nods and left the room. Dr. Quirk watched him go, an expression of distress on her face, before she turned back to the strangers who were crossing the room to greet her.
Hogan held out his hand. “Dr. Quirk, It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Special Agent Matthew Hogan and this is Special Agent Lucy Swanson.”
Dr. Quirk eyed them up and down, her dark eyes narrowing slightly. “This better be good,” she said at last.
“It is,” he assured her.
“I’ve never heard of Project Azure House,” the doctor said, sounding skeptical.
Hogan pushed his glasses up again. “And for all intents and purposes, you still haven’t, if you get my meaning.”
Quirk waved an impatient hand at him. “Whatever. I don’t care.”
Swanson cleared her throat. “Doctor, Azure House is an offshoot of Project Blue Book, which I’m sure you’ve heard of.”
“What fool hasn’t heard of Blue Book?” Quirk made a sour face. “There’s probably a movie of the week on about it right now.”
Swanson and Hogan exchanged a glance.
“That’s probably true,” Hogan agreed, “but no one has heard of Azure House and it has to stay that way.”
“Then why bring in an outsider?” Quirk asked. “How do you know I won’t just go blab about this odd building and you two dorks to the New York Times?”
“That wouldn’t be advisable,” Swanson said.
Quirk glared at her. “Is that so? You’re threatening me, are you? Is that your usual way of garnering cooperation?”
“No, ma’am,” Hogan said quickly, “but you’re the best in your field. I’ve read many of your articles and I know you’ve done stellar work.”
“I was laughed out of the community! Is that your idea of ‘stellar work,’ Agent?”
Swanson was getting impatient with this woman. “The government would greatly appreciate your assistance in this matter, Doctor,” she said as calmly as possible. To he
rself, she wondered what Hogan had gotten them into, but ultimately, she trusted his judgment. “We,” she gestured to herself and Hogan, “would greatly appreciate it.”
The doctor studied them again. “How old are you two?”
Hogan started to reply, but Swanson interrupted him. “What is the relevance of that?”
“The relevance, Special Agent Swanson, is that I don’t want to be running around with a couple of teenyboppers. If you’re gonna drag me somewhere, I don’t want it to be just as easily as you dragged me to this seedy part of town.”
“I can assure you,” Swanson said, “we aren’t teenyboppers.”
Hogan snickered and Swanson shot him a dirty look. He abruptly became serious again. “We’re more than qualified to do our jobs, Ma’am,” he said.
Quirk stared at them for a long time. Eventually, she said, “I’ll be the judge of that.”
Chapter 18
Due to the West Coast time change, and arriving by private jet, the trio touched down in Washington State at just after 9 a.m. From the airport, they rented a car and began the long drive to Lockwood. Hogan drove, while Swanson sat beside him studying various documents, including bios and photos of witnesses, descriptions of the creatures, as well as maps of the town itself.
Dr. Quirk sat in the backseat, staring out the window, looking grimmer than ever.
After driving in complete silence for over half an hour, Quirk said, “You do realize we’ll need to do whatever it is you two want to do before nightfall, don’t you?”
Hogan looked into the rearview mirror and said, “We’ll stay as long as we need to, Doctor.”
“That’s fine and good, Agent Hogan, but my point is that when the sun goes down, if what this town is infested with is actual mothmen—and women, mind you—they will experience a living nightmare.”
Swanson turned in her seat to face Quirk. “You’ve dealt with these things before then?”
Quirk ignored the question. “The first thing you should do is consult with local law enforcement and instate a curfew. There can’t be anyone roaming about the town come sunset. Also, I would advise people to be as quiet as possible and to keep the lights off.”
“Do you really think that will be necessary?” Swanson asked. “It would be almost impossible to enforce.”
“I have an idea,” Hogan said. “In addition to the curfew, we’ll cut the power to the town as well. The residents won’t have a choice about laying low then. At least until we know what we’re dealing with.”
“I already know what we will be dealing with,” Quirk said, “and cutting the power is an excellent idea, Agent Hogan.”
“So you have dealt with them before,” Swanson said.
“In my forty-year career, Agent, you would be hard pressed to show me something I haven’t dealt with before when it comes to cryptids.”
“Bigfoot?”
“Of course.”
“Not a myth, then?”
“Heavens, no. Alive and well, right here in America. Wherever there’s dense forest, they’re there, laying low.”
“Chubacabra?”
“Yes. South America, just as the legend states.”
“Loch Ness?”
“The Nessie myth is very real, but they don’t reside in small lakes. Unless the body of water is intensely vast, there are no prehistoric water dwellers within it.”
“You’ve seen all these for yourself?”
“Oh, yes. Most of them.”
“Mothman?”
Quirk went back to gazing out the window and remained silent for so long that Swanson returned her attention to the documents in her lap assuming the doctor was finished with the conversation.
Finally, Quirk replied with a question of her own. “What is it that the Azure House Project usually investigates?”
“That’s classified, Doctor,” Swanson said, “as I’m sure you’re well aware.”
“Then I will guess: Extraterrestrial phenomenon?”
It was Swanson’s turn to be silent. She flipped to another page in the folder.
“Partly,” Hogan said, which earned him yet another glare from Swanson. He looked at her and said, “We’ve asked the doctor—”
“You didn’t ask at all,” Quirk snapped.
“Right,” he said. “I’m sorry about that. But, yes, Azure House deals with all manner of the unknown. Spacecraft sightings. Paranormal activity. Some crypto myths.”
“Is that so?” Quirk asked. “Which ones?”
“We did investigate the claim of a spotting of a Loch Ness creature once a few years ago.”
“And what did you find?”
“No evidence, but half the town claimed to have seen it at various points.”
Without looking up, Swanson said, “Bogus claims, in my opinion.”
Hogan smiled. “We were also called in to investigate a tribe of werewolves in Montana once.”
Quirk pursed her lips. “And?”
“Let’s just say our final reports are classified.”
“Why bother at this point?” Swanson muttered.
“We are essentially in the same field,” Quirk said, “but with one major difference: I have spent my life trying to prove the existence of these mysteries, while you two have made a career of doing whatever is necessary to disprove them.”
“That’s not quite accurate,” Hogan said.
“Ah. Excuse me,” Quirk replied. “You spend your time performing ‘cover-ups.’ You yourselves are myths, am I right? Most people would refer to you as the Men in Black, gender issues aside.”
Swanson sighed, loud. “We’re government agents, Doctor.”
“But you work out of a hidden office no one knows is there, for a branch of the government no one knows exists. How do you describe yourselves then?”
“We don’t,” Swanson said curtly.
Her statement effectively ended the conversation, such as it was, and shortly thereafter they drove passed a sign welcoming them to Lockwood.
Twenty minutes later, they had three separate rooms rented at a small, run-down motel and their investigation was fully underway.
First stop: the sheriff’s department.
Chapter 19
Deputy Casper sat at her desk, writing a report, her tired eyes burning with a combination of exhaustion, grief, and fear.
In his office, Sheriff Collie was curled on an old sofa, catching a few Zs, while Burke had gone home to do the same. Clark remained in the hospital, alive but essentially mutilated, his face requiring over sixty stitches alone, and he’d had a ruptured spleen which had needed to be removed.
Casper had almost wept with relief when she’d been told he would live, even if it was with a face resembling the Frankenstein monster.
She was just finishing her report when three people she didn’t recognize walked into the station, two women and a man.
The first two, the younger pair, were clearly feds, while the older woman immediately puzzled her. She looked as if she could have been the mother of one of the others.
Casper got to her feet and asked, “Can I help you?”
The man and younger woman flashed FBI badges at her, the man introducing all three of them. “I’m Special Agent Hogan, this is Special Agent Swanson and this is Doctor Quirk.” His eyes flashed down at Casper’s badge. “Is the sheriff around, Deputy?”
“He’s sleeping. Is there something I can help you with, Agents?”
“We’re here about the events that happened in your town last night. Is there any way you can call the sheriff and let him know we’re here?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Collie said from his doorway, putting a hat on over his messy hair. “What can I do for you, Agents?”
Hogan replied by making the introductions again and everyone shook hands all around. After that he suggested they take the conversation into Collie’s office for privacy.
Collie frowned. “Casper is my deputy. You want to talk, you talk to both of us.”
; “I understand, but if anyone were to come in or overhear us somehow—”
“Then we’ll shut up right quick and no one is gonna overhear. I’m not sure what you agents are used to, but there are no bugs in this station.”
“Just wait and see how long that lasts,” Doctor Quirk said with a chuckle, earning a glare from Swanson.
Simmons and Brown walked into the station and Hogan gave Collie an I-told-you-so look.
Both officers eyed the new trio with suspicious curiosity, but said nothing.
“You two hold down the fort for a few,” Collie told them. “Everyone else, shall we step into my office?”
Once the agents were finished telling Collie and Casper what they had in mind, Collie surprised everyone by laughing.
Casper just stared at them as if they were insane. “You actually want to catch one? What for?”
“For study, of course,” Quirk said. “Hard evidence.”
“I can do my best to enforce a curfew if you think that will keep my townsfolk safe,” Collie said. “But, cutting the power? I don’t know about that.”
Swanson told him, “Shut down the power to everything except the hospital and your office, for example. That would probably keep your town even safer than the curfew. Being together is the best guarantee for safety. According to the reports, the mothmen have only attacked when there are loud noises.”
“What?” Collie asked, leaning his elbows on the desk.
Flipping through pages in a folder, Swanson said, “Daniel Helpen reported being attacked after his dog began to bark at the creature. The two teens claim it only showed up after the girl began to squeal. Mr. Sender was killed, in all probability, after he’d fired his rifle at the creature, while Regan Cross remained silent and, as a result, was unharmed.”
“And you yourselves,” Hogan said, “were attacked as the result of the ambulance’s siren. Firing at the creature exacerbated the situation and now you have an officer in the hospital. You have one death, a cop severely injured, an elderly woman with a concussion and broken ribs and the minor injuries the kids sustained in the car wreck. Do you want to risk more than that? Because unless you cooperate, those numbers will most likely double tonight. If we’re lucky, they’ll only double.”