I try to focus on the man in front of me. I need to figure out what’s going on. The first thing that becomes clearer is his eyes. They’re blue. The bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. But not just the color. It’s the feeling behind his eyes. An overwhelming sadness.
I gasp when I realize he’s the man from my dream. The man who took my horseshoe pendant from me.
Falcon.
“I want it back,” I say without thinking. “Do you hear me? I want my pendant back.”
Those words are in my head again. There’s a knife in the kitchen. Sitting next to a loaf of bread. Cut the bread with the knife.
“You want me to cut the bread in the kitchen? That’s what you want me to do? That’s what this is about? Fine.”
I march into the kitchen and grab the serrated knife from the counter. There’s a small round loaf of bread right next to it. I stab the knife right into the center of the loaf like I’m stabbing the stupid bread right in the heart. I wildly stab it over and over until there are pieces of bread strewn everywhere. It looks like the loaf exploded.
I toss the knife on the counter. “There’s your sliced bread, jerk.”
I run out of the condo and down the hallway as fast as my out-of-shape body will take me. I don’t want to be trapped in the elevator with Blue Eyes again, so I opt for the stairs. I realize it’s eight floors, but going down is supposed to be easier than going up, isn’t it?
By the time I get to the ground floor, I’m winded, but my desire to get out of the place is much greater than my exhaustion.
When I’m finally outside, I take in a deep breath. The air is hot, but at least it’s not filled with new paint and carpet smells.
I rip the camera from around my neck and stare into it. “I quit.”
Then I toss it into a trash can along with the cell phone they gave me. Hopefully what I earned today in pay is enough to cover the expense. They can keep the money. I don’t want anything to do with whatever this is.
It’s insane.
As I head back toward the town center where I parked my Vespa, I see JoJo strolling out of a convenience store. She doesn’t look nearly as stressed out as I am. In fact, she doesn’t look stressed out at all.
I hurry over to her.
She frowns when she sees me. “Is everything okay?” I’m surprised by the concern in her voice. “You look completely freaked out.”
“No, everything is not okay,” I fire back. “And I am freaked out.”
She throws her hands up in a defensive gesture. “Cool your jets. Try to relax. Aren’t you suburban girls supposed to be into yoga and meditation?”
“Did anyone follow you?”
She furrows her brow. “What are you talking about?”
“Someone was following me. The entire time. He was right there with me.”
“No one followed me. Look around. The streets are empty. It’s too hot for anyone to be outside right now. I have no idea why we are even standing out here having this conversation.”
“He was inside my head. Like he was talking to me but in my mind.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. My instructions were to walk down here, go into the store, and wait in the candy aisle. That’s it.”
“That’s all you did? Just stood there in the candy aisle? No one was there with you? No one gave you additional instructions in your mind?”
“In my mind?” she repeats like I’m a little off my rocker.
“Communicating telepathically. Planting thoughts in your head.”
She narrows her gaze at me. “I thought you didn’t believe in all of that paranormal stuff.”
“I didn’t. I don’t.” I’m not sure what to believe anymore.
“It was just me and the clerk in the store. That’s it.” She reaches into her pocket and removes a pack of gum. “I bought some bubblegum. I have no idea why. I don’t really chew gum.”
“Do you think maybe they somehow put that idea in your head? To buy bubblegum?”
“Have you been reading some weird science-fiction stories?”
“No, I don’t read science fiction.”
“Listen to what you’re saying. How does another person plant thoughts inside your head?”
“I have no idea. I just know it freaked me out. I threw the camera and the phone they gave me into the garbage. I quit.”
“That’s too bad. I was actually starting to hate you a little less than I hate everyone else in the world.”
“I don’t want anything to do with whatever it is they’re doing.”
“This has really gotten to you, hasn’t it?”
“I’m still shaking.” I extend a trembling arm as proof.
“I should probably get back to the town square and wait for further instructions.” She holds up the cell phone they gave her.
“Right. Of course.”
When she starts walking toward Main Street, I walk with her. As uncomfortable as I may feel with JoJo, it’s a lot less uncomfortable than being alone right now.
Or being with whomever or whatever it was that was following me.
“You know we’re still being watched.” She points to the camera she’s wearing.
I’d love nothing more than to rip the thing from her neck and toss it in the trash, but she’d probably punch me in the nose if I tried.
“Do you mind walking me to my scooter?” My request sounds much sillier than I expect it to, and I immediately regret asking.
“What do you ride?”
“A Vespa.”
“I’m officially jealous.”
“I inherited it from my mom.”
“How long ago did she die?”
“She’s not dead.” At least I don’t think she is. The thought never crossed my mind that she might be deceased. I always assumed that I’d find her one day.
JoJo furrows her brow.
“She took off,” I clarify. “When I was a baby. I was raised by my aunts.”
“And here I thought you came from the picture-perfect family.”
“Far from it. I don’t even know who my father is.”
“Join the club. I guess we have more in common than I thought. My mom died when I was a little kid. I was raised by my grandmother. I lost her two years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No reason to be sorry. It’s not your fault. That’s just the way life is.”
When her phone buzzes, I cringe.
She glances at the screen. “Gotta go. I’ve got my next assignment.”
“I guess I’ll see you around.”
She shrugs. “You never know. Life is weird that way.”
When she takes off in the opposite direction, I feel a touch of sadness. As much as it pains me to admit it, a small part of me is starting to like JoJo.
“Are you tired of seeing me yet?”
Gunner looks up from a row of handguns laid out across the counter. “As if I could ever get tired of seeing you.”
Fortunately, the gun shop is quiet. It’s just the two of us. But he looks like he’s in the middle of something.
“Busy?” I ask him.
“I’m always busy. But you’re not. What are you doing here?”
“I quit my job.” I hold my breath as I wait for his response.
He glances at the clock on the wall. “It’s not even noon yet. I thought you’d at least make it to five.”
“You thought I’d only last a day?” I can’t help the note of disappointment in my voice.
“You’re not exactly the kind of person who likes to take orders from other people.”
He’s got me there. I keep going over the entire experience in my mind. Did I overreact to the exercise? I don’t think so. I still feel a bit shaken by the whole thing.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I’m surprised by the tension in his voice.
“I can see you’re in the middle of something.”
I always feel uneasy being in the gun shop, surrounded by weapons. I’m not a pacifist
, but I think some of my aunts’ tree-hugging, New Age, flower-power vibes might have rubbed off on me.
“I can always make time for you.”
“You’re aces,” I tell him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
I have to smile when he blushes. “Tell me what’s going on, Jericho.”
“I’m not sure how much I can say without getting in trouble.”
‘What are they going to do? Fire you?”
He’s right. So I give him a condensed version of the weird stuff I experienced.
“Sounds like they’re conducting mind-control experiments. Maybe trying to develop psychic weapons.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“The government has been doing stuff like that for years. STARGATE was a project that lasted from the 1970s through the 1990s. The military conducted psi-ops experiments. They wanted to develop military applications of psychic phenomena. They thought they could produce psychic warriors using remote-viewing techniques. The program was transferred to the CIA in 1995. They wanted to develop psychic spies.”
“That sounds crazy.”
“You want to hear crazy? Don’t even get me started on the MK-ULTRA program. During the 1950s and 1960s, the CIA conducted mind-control experiments. They wanted to develop methods to manipulate people’s mental states and alter their brain functioning. They conducted experiments on mental patients, prisoners, prostitutes, and drug addicts. Even children. Using trauma-based mind control, they attempted to erase people’s minds and memories and then rebuild their personalities.”
“But why?”
“I think their ultimate goal was to create super-soldiers. Warriors who would be physically, mentally, and emotionally unstoppable. They wanted trained killers who had no physical, psychological, or cognitive limitations.”
I’m not sure what to say. What he’s telling me is overwhelming.
“The government is supposedly developing technology to remotely monitor and control our brains. Not only could they access our thoughts without our permission and knowledge, but they want to be able to control our actions and convince us that it’s our choice.”
That stops me cold. Was that what they were trying to do with those messages telling me to slice the bread with the knife? Were they trying to control my mind? Is that why JoJo bought the bubblegum even though she doesn’t chew it—because they manipulated her thoughts? But why didn’t it work on me?
I lean on the counter. “Maybe quitting wasn’t such a bad idea after all.”
“Looks like it’s just you and me, kid.”
“Why do you sound like an old man with a stuffed nose?”
“It was supposed to be a George Burns impersonation.”
“Who is George Burns?”
He shakes his head. “Never mind. You’re too young to get the reference.”
“You’re only four months older than me.”
“I have an old soul.”
“You may be right. But your old soul is still lousy at impersonations.”
“I’m just trying to get you to smile.”
I give him a fake grin. “Is that better?”
“Not really.”
I heave a long, deep sigh. “What am I going to tell my aunts? They were so proud of me. Now they’re going to be disappointed.”
“Just tell them the truth.”
“They can’t handle the truth.” I do a terrible Jack Nicholson impersonation before I can stop myself.
Gunner gives me the stink eye.
“Sorry. I guess I’d better get home and let my aunts know that I’m unemployed. No use avoiding the inevitable.”
“Treat it like an adhesive bandage. It’s much less painful to rip it off quickly and get it over with. Just drop the bomb and get it done.”
My aunts are teaching an astrology class when I get back to the house. Three of their regular customers attend a weekly one-hour group lesson about reading the stars’ influence on their destiny.
I head straight for my bedroom to sulk. My one chance at a decent job turned into a nightmare in less than a few hours. I’ll probably end up working in retail the rest of my life. A cashier at a big-box store or a fast-food chain. From what I hear, they are always hiring.
So far, life after graduation sucks.
I toss my phone onto my bed, then toss myself onto the bed with it. Is it too early to get under the covers and hide?
The tears come quickly. Then I sob. My adult life is in ruins before it even started.
Just as I’m about to drift off to sleep, I hear pounding on the front door.
My aunts wouldn’t schedule a psychic reading during their astrology class. Their clients know to use the side entrance anyway. And they never pound on the door. They politely knock.
When the banging gets louder, I decide to drag myself out of bed. I slip on a pair of old flip-flops and shuffle out of my room.
The assault on the front door continues as I make my way through the house. When I glance out the living room window, I notice an expensive-looking black SUV parked outside. The vehicle doesn’t belong to any of my aunts’ regular clients.
I look through the peephole. Three men dressed in black suits and wearing dark sunglasses are standing on the front porch.
They look as ominous as undertakers.
All the air feels like it’s been sucked from my lungs. Maybe it wasn’t such a smart idea to toss that camera and cell phone into the trash after all.
Are they here to arrest me? Take me to jail? If I think the job market is tough now, just wait until I have a police record. No one will ever hire me again.
I won’t even be able to get a job as a poop picker-upper at a dog park.
“Open up,” a deep voice shouts through the door.
My hand shakes as I reach for the deadbolt and unlock it. I feel like I’m going to pass out. Or throw up. Maybe both. An image of me vomiting, then fainting and landing right in my own puke flashes through my mind.
“Open up,” the voice repeats even louder and much angrier.
I’m shaking so hard it’s a minor miracle I’m able to open the door.
“Jericho Jaxon.” The thicker and meaner looking of the three men says my name like it’s a nasty disease. “You need to come with us.”
“Why?” My heart is racing. “Who are you?”
“We’re not asking.” His stern jaw is clenched tight.
“Can I at least put some shoes on?” My voice sounds strained. Maybe he’ll take the hint that I’m not exactly dressed for a trip to wherever it is he wants to take me. The flip-flops I’m wearing are ancient and ready to fall apart. They’re not for outdoor use at this point in their life cycle.
He grabs my elbow and yanks me out of the house. I guess that’s a no on the shoes.
The shortest and stockiest of the three men clutches my other elbow, and the pair forcibly escorts me toward their SUV.
“Where are you taking her?” I hear Anya shout from behind me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of my aunts running toward us. Their astrology students are standing next to the side of the house, watching in horror as the men in black drag me away.
Men in black. I try to remember what Gunner has said about them. A conspiracy related to aliens. I guess I should have paid more attention when he told me. I just thought it was another one of his crazy stories.
His stories don’t seem that crazy anymore.
“Who are you? What are you doing with Jericho?” When Delia tries to block the men from putting me in their vehicle, the third member of the terrifying trio shoves her away.
Fortunately, she’s fast on her feet from years of yoga, and she doesn’t land on her butt.
“We’re calling a lawyer,” Anya yells. “You can’t just take someone like this. It’s kidnapping.”
The men completely ignore her.
“Aren’t you supposed to read me my rights or something?” I ask as they shove me in the back seat.
&n
bsp; The passenger door being slammed in my face is the only response I get.
One of the goons slides into the back seat with me. The other two sit up front.
Delia pounds on the side of their car for several seconds before they peel away.
My heart is beating so hard and fast I’m almost ready to beg them to take me to the emergency room instead of wherever it is that they’re taking me. I’m pretty sure I’m having a heart attack. I just hope my chest doesn’t explode all over the back of their ultra-clean car.
That would make a huge mess.
We’re not headed toward downtown Cordia. We’re going in the opposite direction. Out into the desert.
Are they going to kill me and leave my carcass in the wilderness for the coyotes and vultures to fight over?
The men don’t say a word to each other, so the car is eerily quiet.
“Where are you taking me?” I demand.
My question is met with stone-cold silence. Not that I expected a response. The silence inside the vehicle is killing me, though.
When I reach for my phone to text Gunner, I realize that I left it lying on my bed.
No shoes. No cell phone. If I had gotten changed, would they have dragged me out of the house in my pajamas? The only thing I brought with me is the “Get Out of Jail Free card that Gunner gave me as a graduation present. I just happen to have it in my pocket. A lot of good that’s going to do me in the middle of nowhere with no way to contact him.
When we turn down an unpaved road and head toward the mountains, I get even more nervous. My limbs begin to shake uncontrollably. Maybe they really are going to kill me. Snuff me out. Put a bullet in my brain. They could toss me off one of the rocky cliffs. My lifeless corpse would be devoured by wild critters before anyone even knew I was dead.
When they finally stop the car, we’re in front of a small opening in the face of the rocks. It looks like an entrance to a cave or an old mine shaft. It’s not large enough for them to drive their SUV through. And it’s been sealed with what looks like a metal door.
The three men exit the car. Then they open the passenger door and pull me out.
This time, the guy who grabs my arm holds me so tight it hurts. I’d yell police brutality, but no one would hear me, and I don’t think they’re cops.
They drag me toward the opening in the mountainside.
Alien Hunter Page 7